


In The Shadow Of Your Wings

by emmagnetised



Series: The Wyvern-Verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Family, Gen, Humor, Margaret Stark, Nicknames, Original Female Character - Freeform, Other, Romance, Slow Burn, Stark Siblings - Freeform, The Wyvern, Tony Stark's Sister, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 178,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagnetised/pseuds/emmagnetised
Summary: Margaret Stark is five years old when the Winter Soldier comes for her and her parents. But she survives the attack and is returned to her brother, though she's left broken and traumatised. She grows with a promise she made to herself on the night of the car crash. A mission.This is the story of Maggie forging herself into her own hero, into something that no one expects: The Wyvern.~Eventual Bucky/OC.AU of my other work, 'The Wyvern'. Recommend checking that out first but you don't have to.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Margaret Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wyvern-Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023277
Comments: 262
Kudos: 186





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is an AU of my other story, The Wyvern. You don't need to have read that first, but I recommend checking it out anyway. (Especially the first chapter, that serves as kind of a 'prequel' to this story).

**Psalm 17:8:**

_**Keep me as the apple of your eye,  
Hide me in the shadow of your wings.** _

* * *

**_She made broken look beautiful  
and strong look invincible.  
She walked with the Universe  
on her shoulders and made it  
look like a pair of wings._ **

**\- Ariana Dancu**

* * *

December 16, 1991

Orange light flickered beyond Maggie's closed eyelids. After the sensation of light came sound: crackling, glass tinkling, shuddering breaths.

"Howard!" Mom's voice. "Maggie, say something!"

Maggie tried to open her mouth to speak, but a starburst of pain erupted in her head and ignited across her body. Everything hurt: her chest, her hips, her legs; she was slumped forward in the carseat, seatbelt pinching into her chest and her right leg stuck twisted under herself.

Her ears rang like that time she'd forgotten to put on her earmuffs when she and Tony were exploding things in his workshop, and when she managed to crack her eyes open the world looked… blurry. She frowned, wincing at the pain.

She remembered: they'd been driving, she'd been watching the dark forest blur past and trying to keep quiet. Then there'd been a motorbike-

Maggie opened her eyes wider and the world dribbled into focus. _Dad._ He sat in the driver's seat, but his head rested on the steering wheel and… and…

"Dad?" she croaked in a much smaller voice than she'd meant. Frightened by what she saw where his face should be, her eyes darted right, toward - "Mom?"

Mom was making weird sounds, spluttering for breath, and when the fire burning from the hood of the car blazed a little brighter Maggie saw why: a man wearing entirely black armor stood outside Mom's window with his hand around Mom's neck. Maggie couldn't see his face since he wasn't looking into the car.

"Stop it!" Maggie cried, lurching forward to try to get his hand off Mom. But her seatbelt held her back, and a moment later the man let go of Mom's neck and stepped away. Mom had stopped making noise.

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and pulled at her seatbelt, hot tears sliding down her face and her heart pounding against her ribs. She coughed at the smoke filling the inside of the car. She heard a crunch of gravel, and realized that the man now stood outside her door. He had a silver arm which gleamed in the firelight.

Wheezing, Maggie squeezed out from under the confines of her seatbelt and crawled to the other side of the car, crying out when a hot zap of pain shot up from her leg. Her hips and back felt numb, uncooperative, and it was only by feeling her way across the back seat and fumbling at the door handle that she managed to tumble out onto the gravel below. Cooler air brushed over her face and she screamed between her teeth at the pain coursing up and down her body.

After a second of overwhelming sensation, she heard crunching gravel again. The man with the metal arm, circling the car and walking towards her.

Maggie was the third-fastest girl in her class. Using the hummingbird-fast beat of her heart and her rushing emotions for strength, she pushed herself up to her feet and ran. Ran from the burning car, from dad's scarlet and empty face, from mom sitting still and quiet in her seat. Gravel flew beneath her feet and she had to concentrate not to fall-

A metal hand seized her upper arm and jerked Maggie to a halt.

" _No_!" she screamed, trying to dig her feet into the gravel to push off into a sprint, but the man just turned and began walking back to the car, pulling her along with him. Maggie stumbled and got her feet under her, trying to pull at his metal fingers with her free hand. "Let me go!" As she pulled ineffectually, she looked up into the man's face.

Dark hair framed his face, which was… utterly blank. He didn't look down at Maggie, didn't even look at the car. His eyes were cold. Empty.

Something hot and terrified rose up in her throat, and Maggie gave up pulling at his fingers and swung a curled fist as high up on the man's stomach as she could reach. Her knuckles skidded off his armored vest and came away bloody. Tears blurred her vision and her breath came out in short, terrified gasps as she tried to jerk out of the man's grip.

She didn't realize how close they'd gotten to the car until the man stopped and reached down to his hip for - a gun. Fear as cold as ice swept over Maggie and locked up her joints, making her sag in the man's hand. But instead of pointing it at her he swung the weapon up, up, before firing off a shot that made another starburst of pain erupt in Maggie's head from the volume of it. She glanced up to follow his aim, and saw a street camera with a shattered lens.

The man with the metal arm holstered his gun, his metal hand still firmly wrapped around Maggie's aching arm, then turned and began to walk towards his motorcycle, parked on the other side of the road.

"No," Maggie choked out, slumped and sobbing as the man dragged her, and she turned to look at the car.

It had become a beacon of light in the dark forest, the fire from the crumpled hood spreading and intensifying, radiating heat over Maggie's face. She could see the silhouettes of her parents: Dad's slumped form and Mom - Mom sagged in her seat, head lolled to one side. Maggie's eyes burned as she stared at them, and her skin sparked with pain as she was dragged over the rough ground.

She grabbed a buckle on the metal-armed man's vest and pulled herself up to try get her feet under herself again. She stared up into his blank, dead face.

"Why are you doing this?"

For what seemed like the first time, the man finally laid his eyes on her. He stopped in the middle of the road at her question, and his head swivelled until he was looking emotionlessly down at her. Maggie slumped, her knees banging into the rough surface of the road, the man's hand on her arm the only thing keeping her upright. The man looked down at her, with her failed legs and her tear-streaked face and her wheezing, sobbing gasps.

A faint furrow of his brow broke the blankness of his expression. "You are my mission."

Maggie was stunned into silence at the sound of his low voice, just as blank as his eyes. Her mind reeled, as if finally catching up to everything that had just happened to her: the fire, the echoes of crunching glass and metal, the images burned behind her eyes. Her mind was no ordinary one: she understood what had happened to her parents.

The man with the metal arm seemed just as surprised by his words as Maggie was. She refocused on his face and realized that it was not quite as empty as before: like water shifting beneath the frozen surface of a lake, there was _something_ behind those dead, grey-blue eyes. Maggie didn't blink. She stared up at the man's face, watching the shifts and ripples. His jaw clenched. His chin dropped a little, allowing him to look at her more fully. One of his eyebrows twitched, and then his pupils dilated, the blackness nearly swallowing his irises.

Maggie's knees skidded over the gravel as the man seemed to stumble, or take a step back. His non-metal arm shook.

And then the metal fingers around her arm let go.

Maggie dropped, landing face-first in the road with another cry. Her arm throbbed where it had been in the man's grip, flaring cold then scalding hot.

She looked up, her face stinging, to see the man standing a few feet away, staring at her. His whole body shook like a building about to fall apart at the foundation. His eyes had widened.

Maggie broke eye contact and looked over her shoulder at the burning car. She couldn't see the shape of her parents any more. Her dead parents. She glanced back, her whole body stinging and burning, and couldn't _move._ Her back tingled like pins and needles, making her feel strangely weak, and it was all she could do to crane her neck back to look at the man with the metal arm as he stood and stared at her.

Like a sudden explosion, _rage_ burst through Maggie. It started in her stomach, an inferno stronger than the fire behind her, stronger than anything she'd ever known, and blasted through her limbs, filling her throat and mouth with licking flames and evaporating her tears. She got one arm under herself and pushed up, letting fury burn over her pain, until she'd managed to rise into a sitting position.

She looked into the grey-blue eyes of the metal-armed man and lifted her chin. She wondered if he could see the fire roaring behind her eyes.

"You're my mission now," she whispered.

The man's eyes flashed at her anger, and at her words. For half a second they stared at each other: burning, shaking rage and still, dead ice. Then the man stood up straight, stiff like a toy soldier, and moved. He strode back to the burning car like a robot, his footsteps almost silent. Maggie stared, her arms shaking as they supported her, and watched as he reached into the trunk to remove a metal briefcase.

The man turned again, this time heading straight for his motorcycle. He strode past Maggie without even glancing down at her. He swung his leg over the seat, and started up the engine with a rumble that rose above the noise of the flickering fire. Maggie's eyes burned.

The man kicked up his motorcycle stand, gunned the engine, and drove away. He didn't look back.

Maggie stared after the man until his gleaming metal arm and dark hair and motorcycle vanished from view. The heat from the fire prickled at her back, and her arms shook like twigs in a hurricane. She wanted Mom and Dad. She wanted Tony. She wanted someone to gather her into their warm arms and tell her everything was okay.

But the metal-armed man's dead eyes and the fire still roaring through her body had taken away all safety. Maggie reached one arm out across the black, rough road and dragged herself forward with a low sound like a wounded animal.

She didn't crawl back to the car. Her energy and fear were flagging, and she knew she no longer had the strength to stand. So she reached one arm in front of the other along the road, dragging her useless legs behind her, tears blurring her vision and her mind reeling. Pain crept over her burning rage, seeping back in control, spiking up and down her spine and pounding in her head and scratching at her throat and eyes. But she kept going.

Maggie crawled away from the burning car until she saw bright headlights. She waved her shaking arms and screamed as loud as she could, sure her throat was going to rip apart, until she heard the car stop. Car doors opened and closed. She heard two sets of footsteps, though she couldn't see through the black spots that had filled her vision, and a gasp.

Maggie dropped her head onto her arm and slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well readers, it's been over a year since I finished Maggie's story, and so much has happened since then - I've finished another story called The Siren (check it out if you haven't yet), we've ended up in a global pandemic, and I have moved country twice. I hope the year and a bit has been kind to you all, and that you're happier and healthier than when I signed off. If not that's okay too, and hopefully this story will make things even a little bit better.
> 
> This story will be updating once a week. I'm so excited to bring you along for Maggie's story (take two). It's going to be different, but I promise you're going to have a lot of fun on the way x
> 
> See you next week!


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow what a response you guys! You must have really missed Maggie, huh? Anyway that's all from me, enjoy x

December 19, 1991

The next time Maggie woke, she half expected to see orange flames flickering behind her eyelids again, so she kept her eyes screwed shut.

But sensation trickled back all the same: dry air on her skin, stiff sheets, and the sound of mechanical beeping and far-off conversations. She remembered the echoes of fear and flashing lights and dozens of voices and hands.

Maggie felt pain waiting around the corner for her, like a monster with dead eyes and metal claws.

Her eyes snapped open and she instantly winced as the bright light in the room spiked through her retinas. She mumbled, rolling her head to the side to avoid the light, and heard hushed, urgent conversation from somewhere in the room. A door opened and closed, and footsteps hurried to the side of her bed.

Maggie opened her eyes again, more cautiously this time. The fluorescent white light filtered in, and the blurry image of a hospital room began to come into focus. She heard a soft noise to her right and slowly turned to look.

Tony stood there, staring at her with a look she had never seen before. His eyes were shot with red and his face full of shadows, his hair was all messed up, and his shirt was wrinkly and stained. He gripped the plastic rail on the side of her hospital bed with white knuckles. He looked almost like a stranger.

Tony stared down at her for a few more moments, his eyes flicking over her in her bed before they landed once more on her face. His brows drew together and his chin wobbled. "Hey, Maggot," he croaked.

* * *

Maggie absorbed information about her situation in slow drips and dribbles. Tony and Mr Jarvis were at the hospital with her, each of them damp-eyed and shaky, and her doctors and nurses streamed in and out of the room, occasionally telling her something new but mostly just running tests and telling her she was so brave, or good, or strong.

The medicine was good for pushing away the pain, like swaddling a knife in cotton wool, but it made her head fuzzy and confused. She sometimes forgot what people told her, and had to be reminded - they said that was the concussion.

The information, when she learned it, made her stomach feel like it was shriveling. _Concussion. Burns. Lacerations. Extensive bruising._ She could see that for herself - she saw her face in the reflection off a metal tray, once, saw the angry red gouge over her eyebrow, and could feel the bandages and plasters all over her skin. She had a horizontal purple bruise across her chest where the seatbelt had slammed into her skin, and another dark band around her upper arm where - where... her thoughts skidded away from that memory.

_Nerve damage. Spinal injuries. Broken right fibula and tibia. Infection._

Maggie felt so frustrated as she heard the doctors murmur to Tony and Jarvis as if she couldn't understand. And she didn't, really; she understood all the words but she didn't know enough, hadn't learned enough, to understand what they really meant. She could certainly tell that moving was much more difficult now than it used to be - she could feel everything when the doctors poked her legs and back with a rubber-tipped tool to test sensation, but when they asked her to move her legs she could hardly do much through the pain, and what little she could do looked jerky, uncoordinated. They stopped letting her see her right leg after a little while, when it started to get red and swollen.

She needed the doctors to explain it all to her like she was a child; just a five year old child, confused and scared.

_It's going to be difficult for you to walk for some time, if at all, Maggie_ , they told her first. _We're not sure the extent of the damage. But anything can happen with a growing body._ Her stomach plunged. Tony, standing silently to her left, reached out and took her hand.

A day later: _We're really sorry, but the infection in your right leg has gotten too bad to manage. Do you know what amputation means, Maggie?_

She knew that word.

* * *

Maggie hadn't asked for her parents since she'd woken up. And as if taking her silence as a cue, no one spoke to her about them. Tony was a silent, red-eyed ghoul in her hospital room, speaking only to discuss her health or to tell her _It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay._ Even though he didn't speak much, he was _there,_ every day and every hour, and that gave Maggie a relief that no words could have.

Mr Jarvis was there too, sometimes with his wife Ana, and he filled the silence by talking about how well Maggie was healing, and the weather, and how nice the nurses at the hospital were. He was old and grey now, almost eighty, and Maggie noticed that his hands never stopped shaking.

Rhodey visited a few times, bringing Tony food and fresh clothes and trying to talk to Maggie like he used to: upbeat, friendly. But it felt too much like pretending, especially when she noticed the way he looked at her when he thought she couldn't see.

Maggie's battered and broken body had become the single source of conversation and attention around her. It was easier to push away the memory of _how_ she'd gotten these injuries, to instead think about how they were going to heal. Even not having Mom and Dad there was easy enough to forget about - she'd gone days without seeing them before.

But then, two days before her surgery, some of the nice nurses put Maggie in a wheelchair so she could go outside for a few minutes to get some fresh air. It hurt, but Maggie didn't tell them. She wanted to get out of the room. They didn't see many people as the nurses rolled Maggie through the hospital, but the few who did stared at her before their faces flashed with shock and pity.

Maggie was able to ignore this until they brought her back to her hospital room, and on the way past the nurse's station her eyes skimmed over a newspaper beside a stack of clipboards. Dad's face in black and white stared back at her, jerking her attention back to the paper and to the headline above his picture:

_HOWARD AND MARIA STARK DIE IN CAR ACCIDENT ON LONG ISLAND  
MARGARET STARK, 5, ONLY SURVIVOR_

Maggie's breath got stuck in her chest. The nurses had already rolled her wheelchair past the nurse's station and into her hospital room, talking about the weather, but Maggie had frozen up where she sat swaddled in her blankets. She tried to draw in a breath, but her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. The blood rushed from her face, and when she reached up to her throat her hand was shaking.

The nurses realized something was wrong when Maggie managed to draw in a sharp, short breath that came more like a gasp, and then began hyperventilating: she gasped for breath, fought for it, but her lungs felt as small as deflated balloons.

"Maggie? Maggie, try to breathe for me," the nurses called, but they sounded so far away. She kept gasping for air that didn't come, and her vision narrowed to a pinpoint. Someone lifted her and put her back in bed, and there were people shouting now. She lurched sideways, making pain zing from her right leg up to the base of her neck, and vomited on the floor. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, and when someone slammed an oxygen mask over her face she saw her breath come foggy and staccatoed on the inside of the plastic.

There was no more running from the memories. Flashes of firelight glinting off silver metal and blood smeared on the road and dead eyes filled her pin-pricking vision and flooded her body with fear.

When the familiar heavy press of the medicine washed over her and closed her eyes, Maggie slipped under with relief.

* * *

Tony sat by Maggie's bed in the stiff-backed hospital chair, his chin on his hand and his brow heavy as he watched his sister. They'd put her back under the morphine an hour ago, while he was out discussing funeral arrangements. It was looking like Maggie wouldn't be able to come to the funeral - she was still too sick, especially with her surgery coming up, and the world wanted to celebrate the life of Howard Stark - they wouldn't wait for one little girl.

He'd come back to the nurses telling him Maggie had had some kind of panic attack. They seemed confused about what had set it off. Tony told them that he could think of a few reasons, and they left him alone after that.

Maggie looked so small in her bed. She'd always been small in his eyes, but seeing her like this, swamped by her hospital sheets with wires and tubes trailing from her elbows and the mask over her face… she looked tiny. And broken. When he'd first seen her, in the early hours of the morning after the accident, he'd stumbled back and bumped into one of the bustling nurses.

She only looked a little better today than she had then: the bruises still lay dark and ugly on her skin, the gash over her eyebrow had scabbed over, and they'd shaved part of her hair off to treat glass lacerations on her scalp. Her skinny arms were bruised and scraped up, and yellow from all the antibacterial swabs they kept giving her. And under the sheets, he knew the story was worse. Her shattered, wounded, and infected leg, soon to be removed below the knee, swaddled in bandages, and the invisible nerve damage in her spine.

Tony let out a shuddering breath and dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry, Maggie," he said into the silence of the hospital room. His only reply was the soft beeping of Maggie's heart monitor.

His last words to mom and dad had been angry, bitter ones. If he'd acted differently then, held his tongue, might that car never have lost control and plunged into a tree? Would mom and dad still be around? Would Maggie be… be whole again?

Because he knew this was worse than the physical damage. Maggie had changed. The talkative, irritating, curious Maggie was gone. She'd barely spoken since she woke up. And when the drugs weren't leaving her droopy-eyed and mumbling, her eyes seemed to drown in fear.

He couldn't believe he used to feel even an ounce of jealousy for her. For what? Being smart? Because their parents had been proud of her?

The door opened quietly, letting in Jarvis. He'd been running all over New York ever since the accident, handling all the administration and legal stuff that Tony hadn't had the strength to do. Tony knew it wasn't fair: Jarvis was an old man, had been more or less retired before the accident. But Tony didn't have anyone else. Well, he had Rhodey, but Rhodey didn't know how to handle a nightmare like this.

Jarvis cast an eye over Maggie as she slept, then circled the bed to come lay a hand on Tony's shoulder. "She'll be alright, Master Stark," he murmured, in that firm and reassuring tone. "She will."

"Yeah, after they chop half her leg off."

Jarvis drew in a long breath. "She's young. She'll do a far sight better than you or I would, if we lost our leg. As long as we're there for her."

Jarvis's tone was resolute, but Tony sensed the question there.

"I'll be here," Tony muttered. "I'm staying."

Jarvis's grip tightened incrementally on his shoulder, before letting go. "The police still want to speak to her before the surgery. To close the matter."

Tony grit his teeth. "Do they really have to? It's pretty clear she doesn't want to talk about it."

"She can say as much or as little as she likes. They just need an interview."

Tony's head dropped again. He heard, very faintly, the sound of Maggie's breaths against her oxygen mask. "Fine."

* * *

December 21, 1991

"Hello, Maggie," said the police officer with the dark hair and broad chin the next day, smiling at Maggie, who sat in her bed propped up by some pillows. "My name is Officer Williamson, and this is Officer Cooper." He gestured to the blonde man to his right, who had a notebook on his knee. They both wore black uniforms with silver badges on their chests. "We hear you're healing up, that's excellent."

Maggie didn't say anything. Her surgery was scheduled for tomorrow.

Tony, sitting beside Jarvis on the other side of the bed, shifted restlessly and muttered under his breath.

Officer Cooper looked up. "You don't have to be here if you'd prefer not to be, Mr Stark, Mr Jarvis."

"I'm not leaving," Tony said, in a sullen voice that Maggie was used to him using with - with dad.

Cooper and Williamson turned back to Maggie.

"We're really sorry about your parents, Maggie," said Williamson with a furrowed brow. "And we're sorry, but we're going to have to ask you about that night, for a witness statement. Do you understand?"

Maggie nodded, but she could already feel the tell-tale symptoms of fear spiking in her chest. She forced herself to take long breaths, like the nurses had told her after she woke up from her panic attack. She wondered where all that glittering anger had gone.

"Okay," Williamson smiled. "In your own time, tell us what you remember."

Maggie felt her jaw lock up as if someone had frozen the muscles in her face. Her eyes went wide.

"I know this must be difficult, and I know your doctors told us you might not be able to remember much." Williamson said gently. Whenever Maggie's thoughts turned back to that night, her memories _did_ feel disjointed and blurry. But some things were as clear as if they'd been frozen in time. "How about we walk you through it?"

Before she could answer, Cooper said: "So, the car lost control and crashed into a tree. Do you remember that?"

Maggie swallowed, and nodded.

"A fire started," Cooper continued. Maggie nodded again. "That must have been really scary. You got out of the car?"

"I got out," she whispered. She clenched her fists, feeling the bite of gravel in her palms. Hearing gravel crunching under footsteps that were not her own.

"And your parents were…" Cooper took a breath, and said gently: "They were already gone, weren't they?"

On the other side of the bed Tony tensed up. Maggie did not nod. She could see them: Dad's face, all messed up. Mom, not making any noise.

"So you got out, and you started crawling-"

"There was a man," Maggie breathed.

As if finally speaking about him had conjured him, she could see the metal-armed man: his eyes fixed straight ahead and his face blank as he dragged her along the road. She reached up to touch her arm.

The police officers shared a glance, and Tony and Jarvis frowned.

Williamson cleared his throat. "Yes, a man and a woman found you on the road, Maggie. They brought you to hospital-"

She shook her head tightly, her whole body rigid. "There was a man at the car."

"Okay…" Williamson said. "Can you describe him?"

Maggie's mouth opened and closed. "I - he… he was wearing black. All over. He had a metal arm, and-"

Williamson and Cooper were both frowning now. "Can you… describe his face?"

"Empty," she whispered. She felt flames flickering against her skin.

"Hair color?"

"Dark."

"His eye color?"

Maggie shuddered as panic crawled up her spine. She could hardly speak or breathe past the tightness in her throat, reminding her of yesterday. She fisted her hands in the hospital sheets and forced herself to breathe through her nose. "His eyes were dead."

His face had become a monstrous pit in her memory, shifting like ice bathed in flames.

Cooper leaned forward a little. "Maggie, this man you say you saw… who did he look like? Did he look like someone you know? Maybe… your father?"

She shook her head again. "He doesn't look like _anyone_."

Tony and Jarvis were staring at her. Cooper cocked his head. "And… what did this man do?"

"I…" she furrowed her brow, trying to sort through her blurry, pain-riddled memories. "I didn't… didn't see it all. But I think he made us crash. He hurt… he hurt mom." Tony's eyes closed, and when she glanced over at him she saw his face utterly wracked with pain.

"Did he do anything to your dad, Maggie?" asked Williamson.

"I didn't see. His face…" Horror swelled in her throat, blocking words, and she gasped for breath.

"Maggie," came a voice, but it sounded like they were speaking from the top of a well and she was down in the depths, enclosed in icy blackness, too tight to breathe or see. She could hear machines beeping and Tony's far off voice, and then a warm hand landed on her chest, shocking her into drawing a huge, gasping breath. She scrabbled at the hand on her chest, recognising Tony's callused fingers, and a moment later the fuzzy grey spots in her vision cleared.

Everyone in the room was standing, Tony with one hand on Maggie's chest and the other by her head, his eyes wide and desperate, Jarvis standing back with his hand stretched out, and the two police officers hovering over her, their notes forgotten. The door burst open and two nurses rushed in.

"She started having trouble breathing again," Tony told them, his voice shaking, "I don't-"

The nurses hurried to Maggie's side and started fussing with the oxygen mask, but she was already forcing herself into long, deep breaths.

"How are you feeling?" they asked her.

"I'm okay now," she whispered. "Just got scared."

They stopped trying to fit the oxygen mask. They asked a few more questions, then tried to get the police officers to leave - _it's easier if we just finish this now_ , said Cooper, and then they left the room again.

Everyone was back in their seats, even Tony, though he looked poised to launch up and help Maggie again if she needed it.

Cooper set down his notepad. "Maggie, are you sure there was a man with you at that car?"

Maggie nodded, trying not to think too hard about her memories to avoid getting scared again. " _Yes_. I saw him. He grabbed me, he tried to take me away."

"And then he left you there?"

She nodded.

"Why?" asked Mr Jarvis, weakly, and Officer Williamson shot him a warning look.

"I don't know," Maggie answered. "He just left."

Williamson and Cooper looked at her with expressions like she'd seen on everyone else in the hospital: pity. Cooper closed his notepad, and they shared a glance.

Williamson nodded, once, then turned back to Maggie. "Thank you for helping us, Maggie. We're really sorry for what you went through. And we hope you get better soon."

And with that, they left. Tony and Jarvis followed them out of the room, shooting glances back at Maggie in her bed. The door shut with a _click_.

Maggie fisted her hands in the hospital sheets and glared at her legs. She demanded them to _move_. Her left foot jerked and pain lanced up into her spine. Her right leg ached, bone-deep and feverish.

She heard muffled voices from the other side of the door, and strained to hear. Sometimes she could hear the nurses chatting at their station, if they were talking loud enough.

" _We see this sometimes_ …" she heard. " _Children inventing physical villains to blame_."

A lower voice, inaudible, followed by:

" _Yes, amalgamations of things they can understand, to help them process. Mixed with the head trauma and medication, this is probably_ …"

Maggie grit her teeth and glared up at the ceiling. _There's that anger._

When Tony came back in, looking years older, he shut the door behind him with a sigh. When he turned he saw the determined stare Maggie had pinned him with.

"What, Maggot?"

"They don't believe me, do they?"

Tony sighed again and dropped into the seat next to her. "No. I'm sorry, Mags, but you know… your head got hurt, and I'm sure you were scared, and in pain." He dropped his head into his hands. "Sometimes there's no one to blame."

Maggie glared at him. "But I _saw_ him! I spoke to him!"

Tony's head rose. "You spoke to him? What did you say?"

Her hands curled into fists. "I asked him why he was doing this, and he said I was his mission. Then he dropped me. And I told him he was _my_ mission." The words felt hot in her stomach, her throat, like she'd swallowed lava.

Tony eyed her for a long moment. His dark eyes gleamed with tears. "You're angry," he said.

Her eyes burned. "Someone killed mom and dad!" Her words went high and twisty at the end, and she hated herself for sounding like a scared little girl. She wished, for a moment, that she could be as calm and imposing as the metal-armed man. She saw the way Tony watched her, with sadness. "You don't believe me either, do you?"

Tony sighed. "I don't know what to believe, Maggie." His eyes flicked over her, as if cataloguing her injuries. "But for now, you… you've gotta get better. Let's get you better."

* * *

December 22, 1991

While Maggie was under general anaesthetic having her lower leg removed, Tony sat on a lawn chair at the Woodlawn Cemetery watching his parent's coffins being lowered into the ground.

He'd fought against the timing, but the funeral was set and the doctors wouldn't reschedule the surgery. _You won't need to be there until after_ , they'd told him. _You'd only be waiting._

It wasn't like he was doing anything here either, though. Rhodey sat by his side, and they both watched as family friends, politicians, veterans and scientists gave eulogies. The New York Choral Society sang a hymn. Obadiah talked about Stark Industries, and dad's _legacy._ Jarvis spoke about his fifty-year relationship with 'Mr Stark', about how he'd met Maria and about the course of their relationship, and then:

"Mr and Mrs Stark brought into this world two of the best, and brightest children I have ever known," Jarvis said, his voice shaking. His frail fingers tightened on the sides of the flower-adorned lectern. "Of all their accomplishments and accolades, nothing can stand close to the lives of Tony, and - and Maggie." Tony saw Jarvis's face go ashen. "This loss for them is… incomparable. But I know that they will grow to be wonderful, brilliant people, no matter where they go in life. I - they…" abruptly, Jarvis broke down in sobs. He trembled like a stalk of grass in a hurricane, and moments later Ana hurried up to the podium and led him away.

Tony didn't move. He stared at the two simple gravestones in the grass. _At least we're not burying her, too._

Though with the state Maggie was in, who knew how long it would be until he was back here again?

He didn't hear the rest of the service, until the celebrant invited the attendees to stand and walk about, maybe lay flowers on the grave. There were going to be public mourning events throughout the city for the rest of the day.

Tony stood, turned, and walked back to the carpark. Rhodey followed him silently.

* * *

When Maggie woke up missing a part of herself, she didn't know what to feel. It wasn't like she'd be walking around anyway, even if she still had her whole leg, since her nerve damage was too bad. She threw up from the anaesthetic in the recovery room, and spent the next few days in a haze of medication and pain again. They kept the leg in bandages, but they let her see it when she was well enough to lift her head. It looked funny, seeing her shortened, bandage-swaddled leg beside her whole (if slightly damaged) one. Like an optical illusion.

Tony came back and told her about the funeral. Maggie hadn't really wanted to go, anyway. She didn't like the idea of mom and dad being put in the ground.

She tried to tell the police about the metal-armed man again, when the two officers returned to give Tony some things they'd recovered from the car fire: mom and dad's wedding rings, dad's pager, some tools that had been in the trunk. But even as Maggie tried her best to insist they listen to her, she could see they didn't believe her. They thought her smart brain had cooked up a way to make this make _sense_.

But it didn't make any sense, didn't they see? Why wasn't anyone _looking_?

As the physiotherapists started to get her moving with some gentle leg exercises in her bed, and fitted her for a long-term wheelchair, Maggie turned to Jarvis and tried to convince him to believe her about the metal-armed man. But she started to feel bad about the raw grief she saw on his face every time she brought it up.

Visitors started to filter through her hospital room: some of her nannies, dad's colleagues (who seemed stiff and uncomfortable), Obie, even Aunt Peggy who Maggie had only seen a few times before.

Aunt Peggy was the only one who asked her about the car crash, her eyes shrewd and her voice gentle. Maggie wished her head was clearer, but she was on a lot of medication after the surgery. Besides, she didn't see what help an old woman could be, anyway. Aunt Peggy kissed her forehead and left her a SNES console as a present.

Maggie kept trying to talk to Tony about it, but as her hospital release date drew near he'd gone down an obsessive route of prosthetic research and design. He wanted some way to _fix_ her. He didn't want to entertain ideas of monsters in the darkness.

So the metal-armed man became Maggie's personal demon, haunting the dark corners of her room. He waited for her in her nightmares, always appearing in a flash of metal and flickering flames.

A day before she was supposed to be released from hospital, over a month after the car crash, Maggie mentioned the metal-armed man for the last time. It was just a passing mention to Tony, hoping he would at least _acknowledge_ her. He'd been sitting in his usual chair in her hospital room, sketching blueprints.

Maggie had kept her voice steady as she said: "The man from the car, I think I know what kind of motorbike he drove."

Tony pretended he hadn't heard her.

Maggie pressed her lips together and swallowed any further words. After that day, she never mentioned the man again.

The others thought she had seen the errors of her hallucination, that she'd given it up. But deep in her core sat the memory of dead eyes and a gravelly voice, a vice-like grip on her arm and the silhouettes of her burning parents. The memory burned inside her very identity, a smoldering ember, fueled by her own voice whispering into the darkness:

_You're my mission now._

* * *

Peggy Carter, soon to be the ex-director of S.H.I.E.L.D., called her number two after her visit to the St Mary's Hospital for Children.

" _Pierce_."

"It's Carter," she murmured, settling back in her carseat. "I've just come from the hospital. I followed up on what Mr Jarvis mentioned."

" _And?_ "

Peggy sighed. "I don't know. She mentioned there being a man who hurt her parents, but the way she described him… he sounds like a ghost. She's hurt, and terrified, and confused."

" _Naturally_."

"But we've no way of checking what she says, do we? There's no footage available from the camera at the site of the crash, we have no idea what Howard was working on at the time, and the police are satisfied that it was an accident. I just… I don't know what to do, here." She closed her eyes. She was too old for this. She missed her friend. The images of Howard's children - the battered, withered Maggie and Tony's haggard face at the funeral - were burned in her mind.

Pierce let out a crackly sigh. " _I really am sorry for your loss, Director Carter. I'd say the best we can do is flag the file with a query assassination, but other than that…_ "

"I know," she replied, nodding to herself. "The word of a traumatized five year old isn't enough to base an investigation on." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "But I'm terrified I'm making the wrong call. I'm… I'm too close to this. What do you think?"

There was a long pause on the line.

"Alexander?"

" _I think we have to let this go,_ " he eventually said, his voice low and gentle. " _And maybe you might think about taking some personal leave. Visit the grandkids._ "

Peggy smiled sadly. "I haven't taken a holiday in ten years, Alexander."

" _This isn't a holiday_."

Peggy closed her eyes.

* * *

Officer Williamson stood out the back of the police precinct, a cheap phone pressed against his ear. "Yes," he said into the receiver, listening carefully. "Yes, there's been no alarm raised. The girl appears to have some memory of the night, but the story about head trauma and imagination seems to have been sold across the board. Doctors have even put the memory issues in her file. And last I heard from the plant at the hospital she'd stopped talking about it, so I don't think we need to worry about suppression."

He paused. "The girl? No, they don't know if she'll walk again. Mission failure, I'm afraid."

He paused again, nodding to himself. "Thank you sir. Hail HYDRA."

* * *

January 20, 1992  
Siberia

Five thousand miles away, in a concrete bunker hidden beneath the frozen tundra, the Winter Soldier's screams echoed in a missle silo. The ice was still melting from his bones, and lightning scorched behind his eyes.

His handler watched dispassionately, until the scientists gave him a nod.

" _Zhelaniye_." [ _Longing_ ] The Soldier's body shuddered as the metal plates of the Memory Suppression Machine unclamped from his face. " _Rzhavyy_. _Semnadstat'_. _Rassvet_." [ _Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak_.] The Soldier's face contorted as he heard the words - it was always this way with the first few, as if the words made him physically recoil.

" _Pech'_. _Devyat'_. _Dovroserdechnyy._ " [ _Furnace. Nine. Benign_ ] The Soldier's harsh breathing calmed. " _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odin._ " [ _Homecoming. One_ ] A familiar blankness flooded over the Soldier's gaze. " _Gruzovoy vagon_." [ _Freight car_ ].

The handler waited a few moments, until the Soldier was utterly still. " _Dobroye utro, Soldat._ " [ _Good morning, Soldier]_.

The Soldier's expression did not change. A steady, reliable weapon. The handler felt certain that whatever failures had occurred on his last mission, they would not be repeated. The Soldier looked into his handler's face.

" _Ya gotov otvechat'._ " [ _Ready to comply_ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week! Also for my Spanish-speaking readers, the lovely Tanza_Chan313 on Wattpad has done a Spanish translation of the Wyvern.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midweek update because I literally can't help myself.
> 
> ALSO: I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THERE IS AN [ITSOYW PLAYLIST](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmyEFm4fuH4rlSCu7CQmlQqDkrNpUrqWi) ON YOUTUBE! Should help you to get a feel for this version of Maggie ;)
> 
> TW for this chapter: Discussion of disability, and lack of mobility. I have done my best, but if I've been tactless or made any errors here please let me know.

January 24, 1992

Maggie finally got to go home with a wheelchair, a case full of medication, and an in-house nurse. Her routine went much the same as it had at hospital: bed rest, medication, physiotherapy, without many visitors or fun. But at least she got to wheel around a place she felt familiar with, and watch lots of TV. Mr Jarvis and his wife Ana came over to sit with her most days, and sometimes they read her books. She started back on her schoolwork with an at-home tutor.

They finally let Maggie see her leg when she got her stitches out - it looked pretty gross, with bright red lines along where they'd stitched her skin and the whole end of the limb rounded and swollen, but the doctors seemed pleased with how it had healed. They told her that the angry lines would fade to clean scars, and the end of her limb would shrink back to a normal size after a few weeks of her wearing her special sock. It took her two weeks to get used to looking down and not seeing her foot.

Her physiotherapist was really good at helping her move her legs, but the damage to her nervous system had been extensive. Her movements were still jerky, uncoordinated, and neither of her legs could bear any weight. She went back to the hospital for a series of brain and spinal scans. And began to prepare for the possibility of spending her life in a chair.

Memories of the night of the car crash crept up on her when she least expected them. She also had a therapist, and she did talk about missing her parents and her leg and the life she used to have, which helped, but she didn't tell them the whole truth. The man with the metal arm was trapped in her mind, no longer able to be voiced. Half the time, she thought she must have made him up. But she could still feel his metal fingers digging into her skin, could still hear him: _You are my mission_.

Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, Maggie whispered her reply into her pillow where no one would hear it. " _You're my mission now_." She didn't know what she meant by the words. But they'd become a part of her, as permanent as the loss of her parents, as permanent as the damage her body had suffered. Irremovable.

Tony was… around. But he spent a lot of time in Dad's workshop, where Maggie wasn't allowed. He came along for every one of her doctor's appointments though, and afterward he would walk her doctors out of the mansion, engaged in serious conversations in low voices. Maggie watched them go, her eyes narrowed, until her nanny tried to distract her with schoolwork.

* * *

March, 1992

Tony played his music much louder these days. Rhodey hadn't thought it could be possible, but as he sat on a stool in the middle of the Stark mansion workshop he had to resist the urge to slap his hands over his ears to muffle the pounding of Aerosmith.

"Are you really sure you need it this loud?" he shouted to Tony, who sat three feet away in front of three large computer screens. Each of the screens showed a different design for a prosthetic leg.

Tony glanced over at Rhodey. "What?"

"I _said-_ " but then he saw from the quick glint in Tony's eye that he was being made fun of, and shut his mouth. He sighed and cast an eye over the designs on the computer screens. Tony had been working on this for weeks now, trying to turn his engineering brain to a medical issue. Rhodey had no idea if it was working or not, but he'd noticed that Tony was collaborating (an unusual skill, for him) with Maggie's team of neurosurgeons and physiotherapists. Rhodey scratched his chin. "I thought the doctors said a prosthetic wouldn't help until they figure out the spinal cord and nerve issues."

"They did," Tony said, seemingly not bothered by the music blaring over their conversation. He typed in a string of code and the design on the right twisted, becoming more angular. "But I've got some ideas for that too. I've been talking to Dr Ravi, and we think there might be a surgical method to rehabilitate mobility. It's based on existing surgeries, but… we've come up with some new ideas. I've been thinking about smart prosthetics."

Rhodey shot Tony a look. "You're going to test-"

"No," Tony said without looking up. "I don't want to hurt her anymore. This is all just… theory. I'm not telling Maggie about it, I don't want to get her hopes up."

A moment later, even over the thudding bass of _Should I Stay or Should I Go_ , Rhodey heard the _click_ of the workshop door opening. He and Tony both glanced over their shoulders to see Maggie in her wheelchair, wearing a fuzzy knitted sweater and a white limb sock over her amputated leg, which just peeked out from under a blanket. Maggie looked much better these days, since most of her bruises and lacerations had healed. Rhodey had noticed more of her old bright curiosity returning as well. Today, Maggie's face was flushed and her hair stuck up wildly on her head as she rolled herself into the workshop, spun around, then closed the door and locked it.

Tony turned off the music. " _Hey_." Maggie's head jerked up and she turned her chair, more slowly this time.

"Hello Rhodey," she said when she spotted him sitting beside Tony. He lifted a hand in greeting.

Tony stood up. "What the hell are you doing in here? Why are you by yourself?"

Maggie cautiously rolled forward, her hands nimble on the metal rungs of her wheels. "My tutor thinks I'm going to get my workbook." Rhodey's eyebrows rose. "I know you've been working on something in here." Her eyes zeroed in on the screens full of prosthetics behind Tony and a look of vindication lit up her face.

Tony turned off the screens. "Maggie, this isn't-"

"I don't care," Maggie breathed. Her wheelchair bumped into the side of a worktable, but she adjusted and kept rolling closer toward them. "I know what you're up to. And I know I'm small," she continued with dark, earnest eyes, "but I want to help."

Rhodey glanced to Tony, who seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek.

Tony drew in a deep breath. "I don't want you to… to get your hopes up, Maggie. I can't promise anything."

"You sound like the doctors." She shrugged. "I don't care. I want to help."

Rhodey glanced back at Tony again. He couldn't believe the look of consideration and appraisal on Tony's face; surely Tony wasn't going to let his _five year old sister_ have some kind of say on whatever mad medical schemes he was cooking up? But then, as Tony glanced back at his workbench, Rhodey recalled how Maggie had been _before_. He recalled how she had spoken to him about the planes he had flown, and their aerodynamic and mechanical capabilities. He had once explained the basics of aerodynamics to her, and she had finished the conversation by writing down the drag coefficient equation to show him how jet fuselages had been engineered to generate maximum lift.

After seeing Maggie drugged up and confused in hospital, and now small and chair-bound, Rhodey kept forgetting what she was. Maggie was a _Stark._

Tony glanced back at his little sister as she finally navigated to the computer hub in the center of the workshop. She looked up at her brother with a determined expression.

Tony set his hands on his hips. "Fine. Settle in, Magnolia, and let me know if you need me to slow down."

Rhodey sat back and watched Tony go through all his work of the past few weeks. Maggie didn't ask him to slow down. She asked a few clarifying questions, and sometimes her brow furrowed, but she seemed to _understand_ him. Rhodey understood maybe half of what was said, and he definitely didn't see the bigger picture.

Tony talked about implants and neural connectivity and 'smart prosthetics' and anatomical mechanical links. After a few minutes, Maggie scratched at the top of her limb sock and cocked her head at Tony's computer screens.

"You're talking about cybernetics," she said eventually. "Like robots."

Tony shut his mouth. He glanced back at the screen, then back at Maggie. "I… you're right. I am." His eyes widened. "I've been looking at just the mechanical, or just the biological, but there's that link - communication." Something like glee glinted in his eyes. "We should look into this. Get over here, I'll bring you down a computer."

Maggie eagerly rolled over. After a few moments Rhodey smiled to himself and left the workshop. Neither of them said goodbye, but he didn't mind. Moments later he heard the electric guitars of _Led Zeppelin_ echo down the corridor.

He supposed he ought to be concerned about what those two might cook up: a five year old and a twenty one year old, who formerly hadn't gotten along very well, left to their own devices. But after months of heavy, suffocating grief, this felt like a glimmer of light.

_They're going to be alright._

* * *

Tony hadn't thought that Maggie would be much help at first. But it turned out that connectivity systems came naturally to her - Tony had spent over a decade learning the way things were _supposed_ to be, but Maggie had no such preconceived notions. For her, there was no difference between the intricacies of an engine and the human nervous system. Plus she didn't have that queasy look that the Stark Industries engineers gave him when he suggested crazy ideas.

She was still a little young to design the thing herself, so it remained Tony's idea, but she followed along with every step of the way and helped him talk through his ideas, occasionally suggesting perspectives that he hadn't considered. They reached out to medical engineers and neuroscientists in their work.

Of course he made sure she still kept up with her rehab and her schoolwork, but this new, strange mix of science and engineering they tinkered away at in their father's workshop had become an obsession for both of them. When Tony pulled himself away for long enough he realized this had become somewhat of a replacement for the space their parents had left in their lives. That was alright by him, but sometimes he wondered if Maggie… needed more.

Jarvis and Ana still stayed around the house most days, making sure the Starks ate and slept and got outside every now and then. Rhodey was busy with the Air Force, but he made a point of dropping in when he could. Obie was busy with Stark Industries.

* * *

Maggie's health improved every day. She got stronger and more active, and Tony privately wondered if she'd end up as a weightlifter or something one day.

One morning, as they were burning their fingers on soldering irons in an experiment with artificial neural connectivity, Tony glanced up at her. "Hey Maggie."

She looked up. Her dark, unruly hair had been pulled into two pigtails fastened by Star-Wars scrunchies. "What?"

"Do you ever…" he furrowed his brow and glanced away. "Do you ever miss your leg?"

"Yes," she instantly replied, as if he'd asked an obvious question. And he supposed he had. Tony glanced back at her, and she cocked her head. "But I'm going to get a new one."

He frowned.

Maggie nodded across the workshop at a far bench. He followed her gaze to see the model prosthetics he had bought, to study their structure and mechanics.

Tony glanced back, the corner of his mouth quirked, and she smiled at him.

"And one day," she said as she turned back to her work. "I'll be able to _use_ it."

* * *

And then… they figured it out. The answer was both biological and mechanical: with a combination of standard medical metal implants (plates and rods for spinal surgery), as well as improvised cybernetic tech to create artificial connectivity along the spinal cord, more standardised surgery to correct the nervous and lumbar issues, and a smart prosthetic, it was likely that Maggie would achieve full mobility and functionality again. Each step of the way, Tony said it was a _hypothetical experiment._ Tony ran it by the neurosurgery team at the Children's Hospital, who about lost their minds. Then they got ethics approval. And then…

"I don't think this is a good idea," Tony told Maggie one summer afternoon, looking down at an email he'd just received. _Experimental procedure approved for trial._ Maggie was propped on the leather couch on the other side of his office, reading a children's book for her English class.

She looked up. "What?"

Tony drew in a deep breath. "The surgery. The implants." He pushed his chair back from his desk, shaking his head. "This is such an invasive procedure, and so many things could go wrong-"

"I know."

Tony's head jerked up and he looked into Maggie's eyes. Her face was utterly still, and her eyes were _burning_. His breath left his chest. He'd noticed this part of her occasionally - a deep well of anger and determination that had never been there before the car crash. It made him shut his mouth.

Maggie didn't break eye contact. She'd dropped her book. "I helped you write that part of the report. I know everything that can go wrong." Her hands clenched and she swung around so she sat upright. "But I know it won't."

"Maggie, you don't-"

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" she said, her young voice belying the gravity behind her words. "I do. But everyone you talked to said it _will_ work. I know the doctors - I know they're the best. I know the technology is the best, too. And the reason I _know_ this will work," she continued, "is that _you_ designed this." Tony's mouth snapped shut as Maggie stared at him. "You're _smart_ , Tony. Smarter than - than dad," she said, though her mouth shook. "I know you've checked this over so many times that there's no way something can go wrong. So I'm sure. Let me do this."

Tony sat back in his chair, feeling deflated. For a few long moments silence reigned in the office. Tony's heart was pounding. He'd only been able to get this far by pretending it was all theoretical. The idea of the systems and technologies he'd designed being put _inside_ Maggie made his stomach turn.

Finally, he met her eyes again. "You're a real bully, you know that?"

Her eyes glinted. "But you're going to do what I say anyway."

"I didn't say that," he warned. "You… I want you to get permission from…" _Who?_ Her legal guardianship was still up in the air. "From Jarvis," he improvised. "And Obie, and… and…"

Maggie waited him out. She knew there was no one else left who could pretend to be in charge of her.

"And Rhodey," he finished, pointing his finger at her.

Maggie's eyes flashed again. "Okay. Help me get in my chair."

Tony crossed the room and gently carried her into her wheelchair, from where she zipped off into the hallway, no doubt on her way to find Jarvis. She'd gotten strong thanks to all the physio, and she was an absolute speed demon in her chair.

Tony let out a sigh and reached up to press his fingers into his temples. _Here we go._

* * *

May, 1992

Tony wasn't quite sure how Maggie, just a month away from her sixth birthday, managed to bully her way into getting invasive experimental surgery. Jarvis had needed the most convincing, and struggled to understand the complexities of the surgery in his older age, but eventually he relented. Obie agreed to it over the phone after just five minutes of Maggie talking his ear off.

Rhodey saying yes surprised Tony - he'd put him on Maggie's list because he knew that out of all of them, Rhodey was the least likely to be convinced by the science. Rhodey made decisions based on gut instinct. But Maggie hadn't even needed to talk him into it.

When Tony asked, Rhodey set a hand on his shoulder.

"I've seen you do some crazy stuff in your life, Tony, but I know there's no way in hell you would have agreed to this unless you were absolutely sure it would work. If the surgery was for you, I'd question it. But this is Maggie."

Still, Tony had some of his old MIT professors check over his work in the weeks leading up to the surgery, because they were the only ones he really trusted to quadruple-check his math.

On the day Maggie got admitted back to the Children's Hospital, six years old with lightning bolts painted on the sides of her wheelchair, Tony was hit with a cold rush of realization: _this is really happening._

He glanced down at Maggie, who was flexing her legs as much as she could: her left leg shook and twisted sideways, and the nub of leg below her right knee flexed up and down, almost smoothly. She looked up at him.

"This is really happening," she grinned. When that didn't elicit the excited response she wanted, she reached up and grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt. "Don't worry about me, Tony."

He crossed his arms. "I'm always going to worry about you."

"Ms Stark?" they both looked over to see Dr Ravi waving from the other end of the lobby. "We're ready for pre-op now, if you'd both like to come through."

Tony let out a shuddering breath and set his hands on the back of Maggie's wheelchair. "Here we go, Maggot."

He couldn't see her face, but when she next spoke her voice didn't have that wide smile in it. "Here we go."

* * *

There were three surgeries in total, over the period of a month. They installed titanium plates and rods in Maggie's back, threaded wiring along her spine like nerves, and performed the complex surgery necessary for her nerves and spine to function as they were meant to. Maggie had the best doctors and the best care, but Tony could see the toll the surgeries took on her: she got sick from the anaesthetic and lethargic from the medication, growing weaker as the month bore on. She had constant bruises in the crooks of her elbows from her IV lines and she lost weight, leaving her limbs thin and shaking. Her doctors and nurses said it was _all within expected limits_ , but Tony hated it.

They invited him to observe one of the surgeries, the more complicated one with the cybernetic link ups (since that had been his brainchild), but he didn't want to see Maggie opened up like that. It was bad enough seeing the scars up her back and along her hips.

In Maggie's more lucid moments they looked over her X-rays together, pointing out how the doctors had achieved in real life what the two of them had imagined on computer software. Outside of their hospital room bubble, Tony knew that the doctors and scientists involved were buzzing about the procedure and technology already.

Then came the time for healing. Maggie had to stay in hospital for two months of bed rest, not allowed to go home because the surgery was an experimental trial. They increased her mobility as time went on, physically moving her limbs for her at first and then running exercises with her as she lay in bed: leg up, leg down, flex, push. Still, Tony could see that this rest period weighed as heavy on Maggie as the month of surgery had. She consumed way too much TV, blazed through her schoolwork (Tony resisted against bumping her up _another_ grade, because he knew from experience how alienating that would be when she went back to school in person).

They dealt with a brief infection in her hip, which the doctors chased off with an obliterative course of antibiotics, and her in-bed mobilisation got ever more promising. One day, about three quarters of the way into her mandated recovery period, Tony watched as Maggie's physiotherapist did a resistance exercise with her: having Maggie push back against his hands with her legs.

"That's looking really positive," the physiotherapist beamed, glancing from Maggie to Tony. "I think we might try you with some walking exercises next week."

"Really?" Maggie breathed, wide eyed.

"We'll talk with the rest of the healthcare team, but I think it's definitely coming soon," he said. "You're making excellent progress, Maggie."

Tony sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face so he could conceal his smile.

* * *

That afternoon, Tony fell asleep in his chair. Maggie knew he was supposed to be on a conference call with Obie and the rest of the SI board, but she also knew he needed his sleep. So she quietly did her English homework, though she couldn't concentrate on it. Her thoughts were focused on her legs: focused on the sensation and slight movement of them as she shifted beneath her sheets. She wriggled her toes. She hadn't been able to do that before the surgery. Excitement zinged up her spine.

Maggie glanced around. Tony, asleep in his chair. The private room's windows were obscured by the blinds, and she could just see the foggy shape of the nurse's station through the frosted glass in the door. No one in sight. Maggie clenched her fists in her sheets. _This is a bad idea._

And yet, half a minute later she was sitting upright and shifting, moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake Tony. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and hit the button to lower the whole frame as close to the floor as possible. It whirred smoothly, and Maggie's left leg dangled in midair.

When her left foot touched the cool vinyl floor a flinch went through her body. Her physiotherapists had already tested her temperature sensation, but something about having the floor beneath her feet (foot) made her shiver.

Maggie glanced around again. Her hospital room was dim and quiet, scented by the bouquet of lilies Aunt Peggy had sent. The only sounds were the soft whirring of machinery and Tony's steady breathing.

Holding her breath, Maggie gripped the railing on the side of her bed with all the strength she had, and then shifted her hips off the mattress.

The instant her weight fell on her leg it wobbled and almost crumpled. But Maggie weaved her arms through the bed railing, holding herself up as her heart pounded, and slowly, shakily, got her leg under herself. She closed her eyes and visualised the muscles in her leg like her doctors had taught her. She felt the flex of her thigh muscles, the strain in her calf, her knee aching at the pressure. She imagined the messages zinging up and down her metal-reinforced spine to her brain faster than the speed of light, allowing for minute corrections and control.

And then Maggie realized that she was _standing._ Still half supported by her arms, sure, but she stood steady on her left leg for the first time in almost a year. Shaking and sweaty, she swallowed an excited _whoop_. Her right leg sort of hung beside her other leg, feeling _very_ strange balance wise, but she swung it back and forth a few times to get accustomed to it.

Then she swivelled a little, moved her hands along the railing, and began to move. Hopping hurt, and made her leg shake like the trunk of a tree supporting an over-large canopy, but by holding herself up on the railing she could do it. She hopped and shifted her foot until she'd made it to the head of the bed. Then she held her breath again, braced herself, and grabbed the lip of the medication cabinet beside the bed. She did not crumple to the floor, and thanked her lucky stars.

She wobbled her way along the cabinet until she finally made it to Tony's chair. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and ran down her forehead into her eyes, but finally she grabbed Tony's armrest and caught her breath.

Maggie tapped Tony on the shoulder.

He frowned at first, mumbling, until after another tap he finally opened his eyes.

Tony focused fully on his surroundings and for a few moments simply stared blankly at Maggie as she stood, clinging to his chair. Then she saw realization hit him.

Maggie grinned.

* * *

December, 1993

Two years after the deaths of their parents, Maggie and Tony stood side by side in front of a pair of gravestones.

It had been a good year, for the most part. Maggie had learned to walk again, once her first prosthetic was fitted. The metal pylon of it poked out from under her black dress, before disappearing into a dark sneaker. She'd spent her time strengthening her muscles and ensuring her spine was at full functionality - there were still things she couldn't do, but she could walk, and run (if slowly). Tony and Maggie's team of doctors had published their newly-invented procedure, and it looked like the cybernetic approach was going to help hundreds of other children and adults.

And then.

Maggie read the gravestones through her tears.

_Ana Jarvis  
4 May 1916 - 2 September 1993  
Beloved wife and friend_

_Edwin Jarvis  
16 April 1913 - 28 November 1993  
Loyal friend and guardian, loving husband  
_" _There is not a man or woman, no matter how fit he or she may be, who is capable of carrying the entire world on their shoulders._ "

Maggie reached up to wipe at her eyes, feeling shaky in her very soul.

Mr Jarvis had loved Maggie and Tony with his whole heart, but after Ana died a few months ago, there wasn't much holding him to life. Maggie didn't blame him. People died. She couldn't get angry at them for it, it was just what happened.

She looked up at Tony. His head was bowed, and maybe it was the words on Jarvis's grave that reminded her, but she thought he looked like that statue dad showed her once, of the man holding the entire world on his shoulders. But that statue had looked strong. Tony didn't look very strong right now.

Maggie sniffed, then reached up and took Tony's hand. He blinked and looked down at her.

"Whatever happens, it'll be okay," she told him. She'd heard that, somewhere.

Tony laughed wetly and his hand tightened on hers. "Aren't I meant to be the one comforting you?"

They stood in silence after that, holding hands until the bitter wind blowing through the cemetery grew too cold. They turned and made their way back to the car.

* * *

A week later, Tony found Maggie playing hopscotch by herself in the courtyard. The image gave him pause for a moment - _shouldn't she be playing with other kids her age?_ But he'd never had that luxury, growing up. Something about their minds alienated other children, and Maggie's long period of rehabilitation had cut her off further from anyone else her age.

He shook his head and strode forward until she spotted him and stopped, breathless. "Maggie," he began. "Obie and I have been talking about the company, and I was thinking… I think it'd be good to move to L.A. Be closer to the main factory, y'know?" Maggie's eyes went round. "Want to come with me?"

Maggie gaped at him for a moment. "But New York is where our house is."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I know. But it's just a house, Maggie." _A house full of haunting memories_. "And we'll still own it, we can visit-"

"Why do you want to move?" Maggie listed slightly to the left, favouring her right leg, like she did when she got distracted.

"Like I said, the factory, and… I think I - we - need a fresh start." He frowned. "But if you really want to stay, I can… I can split my time, like dad-" he cut that thought off. "I can split my time, and hire more nannies and tutors to look after you here."

"No," Maggie said instantly. The thought of being alone like that in the mansion terrified her. "I want to go with you."

Tony let out a breath. He'd been worried she would say no. He didn't know what he'd do if she did. He bent down, stooping to her level (though at seven years old, she was already shooting up like a sprout) and wrapped her in a one-armed hug.

Tony pulled her in tight, and Maggie wondered briefly if he needed her just as much as she needed him. And she reached her arms up and hugged him back, because he'd _asked_ her. He'd made her choice important.

Tony squeezed her. "You'll love it, Magpie. You haven't been out to California in ages, the warm weather will be good for you I think. Plus we can make a whole new house."

"Can we have a pool?" Maggie asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"I'll build you ten pools."

"I don't need ten pools."

"Just one then. A really big one. And I'll build the house by the ocean, too."

"It'd be nice to go swimming again," Maggie murmured, thinking of the time her mom had taken her to the beach and held her hand as they stepped into the salty water.

* * *

A month later, as Tony watched Maggie climb carefully up the steps onto the private jet that would whisk them across the country to California, he felt relief wash over him.

New York had become stifling - a place full of death, and pain, and memories that dogged his every step. Maggie was healed now, or at least on her way there, walking around on her prosthetic like she'd been born with it. Tony had already decided to build her a whole new one when they got to L.A. He still saw ghosts in her eyes sometimes, and sometimes that simmering anger, but piece by piece she was returning to herself. Some days he tossed and turned, certain that he was going to screw her up even worse than he'd been screwed up by mom and dad.

But in L.A., in the sun far away from here, maybe they had a shot. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get her through the rest of her childhood without any further scars. Tony knew he was no parent. He was barely a good brother, most of the time. But he could give her this.

When Maggie and her gleaming prosthetic disappeared into the jet, Tony drew in a deep gulp of the smoggy New York air, straightened his shoulders, and followed his sister.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it Captain Marvel reference in this one!

September, 1994

"Hey, Tony?" Rhodey cautiously entered the L.A. penthouse, peering around. He'd buzzed the door and after a moment it had just clicked open on its own - Tony had mentioned he was experimenting with home automation.

Rhodey's eyebrows climbed his forehead as he paced further into the house. This was nothing like the traditional, warm mansion in Manhattan; this place was all open plan rooms with sleek lines and plate glass. It had clearly been decorated professionally, since Rhodey knew that Tony would never take the trouble to pick out all these tasteful cream rugs and pot plants and the minimalist art on the walls.

"Tony?" he called again, pulling at the sleeve of his Air Force uniform.

"He's in here!" called Maggie's voice.

Rhodey followed the sound of her voice into what was clearly the main space of the penthouse - a split level living area, with one whole wall made entirely out of glass and looking out over the glittering skyline of Los Angeles. Maggie sat on a leather couch by the window, rolling a silicone sleeve up over her right leg. A strange-looking prosthetic with a metal curve in it sat beside her on the couch.

"Hi, Maggie," Rhodey greeted. "Do you want a hand with that?"

Maggie kept surprising him with how much taller she got every time he saw her. He supposed that now she was up and walking around it was all the more noticeable - she'd grown her dark hair long, and the only noticeable signs of her injuries (other than the missing part of her leg) was a pale scar over her eyebrow, so faint that you hardly noticed it unless you knew to look for it. Though Maggie was still pretty quiet after the car crash, Rhodey recognized more of the talkative ball of curiosity he'd known before Howard and Maria died.

Maggie looked up. "I've got it," she said as she began pulling a special sock over the sleeve. She jerked her head. "He's upstairs."

Rhodey nodded his thanks and climbed the split-level stairs to find Tony sitting behind the penthouse bar, with a laptop and a tumbler of whiskey set before him. He wore a proper suit, which Rhodey hadn't seen him do before unless he'd been forced.

"Nice place," Rhodey said by way of greeting, heading to the liquor cabinet to help himself to Tony's whiskey.

"Don't get attached," Tony replied. "This is temporary until we get construction done on the mansion."

"Is this the monstrosity that you're shutting down half of Malibu to build?"

"That's the one." Tony spun his laptop around. "See?"

Rhodey finished pouring his glass and leaned over to look at the plans on Tony's screen: architecture wasn't his thing, but he could see that Tony had planned a multi-story, sprawling house full of glass and metal, with what looked like an enormous workshop in the garage. And a pool. It looked like Tony was planning to build it practically on a cliff-face. Rhodey had to admit, it looked cool.

He smiled. "And this place is going to house, what, two hundred people?"

"More like two," Tony grinned. "Though it's got plenty of room for guests."

Rhodey laughed. "I see how it is, you've built yourself a party house."

"Oh come on, the place is going to be _mostly_ kid friendly, for obvious reasons," Tony said with a significant glance down at where Maggie sat on the couch. "I'm not dead, though." He waggled his eyebrows at Rhodey.

Rhodey couldn't help but smile. Tony had grown up a lot since the crash, but even an outside observer could see that Tony could not be kept from a good party: once Maggie was healthy he'd started hitting up the New York club scene again, and Rhodey knew that California would likely just make him worse.

Rhodey circled the counter and sat down beside his friend. "Tony, I… I know this move has been good for both of you, but…" he dropped his voice. "Are you sure about becoming her legal guardian?" The paperwork had been finalized this year. Tony stiffened in his seat. "I know she's your sister and you love her, but this is a _big_ responsibility." He glanced down at Maggie again, who was now fitting the strange prosthetic to her leg, huffing under her breath.

Tony shrugged. "It's not like I'm her _parent._ And she's still got Obie, and we've got a whole team of nannies who look after her when I'm not around."

Rhodey sighed. "Kids need parents, Tony. And you've got a full plate what with being CEO, and, y'know, you. This whole arrangement seems…"

"What, like the way I grew up? An absent parent figure and a bunch of nannies?" Tony challenged, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry. His lighthearted mood had utterly dropped, which would have been alarming if Rhodey hadn't seen this happen before. "Well tough shit Rhodey, her parents are _dead_."

Rhodey sighed again, and reached out to grip Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean it like that."

Tony clenched his jaw for a moment, then looked down to make a few adjustments to his mansion plan. "Well, you're worried about her. You and the whole world, it seems like." He swallowed. "They've all written her off, y'know. Like she's dead too."

Rhodey looked over at Maggie again, Tony following his gaze, and they both watched as Maggie took in a breath and got to her feet. She tested her weight on the new recurve prosthetic, and then took steady, measured steps across the room.

Rhodey smiled despite himself. "Oh, I'm not writing her off just yet."

* * *

Maggie liked California. She missed New York sometimes when the bright, colorful climate of L.A. and its bright, colorful people felt overwhelming. But mostly, California felt new. Exciting.

It was easier to avoid thoughts about _before_ in a new place. She wondered if that was why Tony had them move.

She liked the penthouse, though she was very aware of just how lucky she was to live in such nice places. Tony asked for her input on the mansion plans from time to time, but he was clearly having fun designing the big, gaudy house he'd always wanted, so she left him to it. She just made sure he built it with easy inclines and no sudden ledges, to make things easier on her leg.

The other good thing about the move was that she was now well enough to go back to school. Tony enrolled her in an all-girls private school with a strong STEM focus, and only let the school bump her up two grades after they saw her entry test scores. _Trust me_ , he'd told Maggie. _You don't need to rush._

The night before she was supposed to start school, Tony knocked on her bedroom door and opened it to find her lying in bed, sans-prosthetic, reading a book. He cocked his head to read the cover.

" _How to Win Friends and Influence People,_ " he read aloud, his mouth quirking. "What're you reading that for, cyborg?"

Maggie looked up. "Because I don't know how to make friends."

Tony leaned against the doorframe and eyed his sister for a few moments. She'd said it so matter of factly, and he supposed it was true - he didn't really remember her having any friends over for playdates _before_ , and she'd hardly been around any other kids since she lost her leg. She hung out with him, Obie, and Rhodey, and the other adults in their circle. Tony had had similar problems growing up - he was always too far ahead of the other kids his age, pushed too hard by his father. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of more than a handful of people who could be considered close friends of anyone in the Stark family.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. "You… you're worried about school tomorrow?"

A furrow appeared on Maggie's brow. "Sometimes I feel like I don't know how to be a person."

Tony let out a low laugh. "You and me both, kid." He jerked his chin at her book. "Let me know if you read anything useful in there, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, then looked back at the pages. "It says… you should be nicer to the people you work with."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to Obie." She shrugged innocently and he rolled his eyes. "That's it, no more reading for you. It's probably your bedtime - go to sleep."

This made Maggie smile, but she obliged by closing her book and flopping back on her mattress, her covers tangled around her waist. "Good night, Tony."

Tony hesitated for a moment. He always found bedtimes awkward, like it was the time he should be acting like her parent. Most days the nannies put her to bed.

Maggie wriggled around, finding the most comfortable spot on her pillow. Before he could second guess himself Tony strode forward, pulled her covers up to her shoulders, and then patted the edges down.

He retreated back to the doorway, and turned to see Maggie peering at him from under her tousle of tangled hair, something contemplative in her gaze.

"Lights out?" he asked.

She nodded.

Tony flicked the switch and his sister's room fell into darkness. His hand landed on the door handle. "Night, Maggie. Love you."

He pulled the door shut, but not before he heard a soft "Love you," in reply.

With the closed door behind him, Tony let out a breath. _I should say that more often._ He knew how it felt to go your childhood waiting to hear it, only to be disappointed.

He shook himself and headed to his workspace to put the finishing touches on their home.

* * *

Maggie's first day of school felt a lot like the time she'd tried on her first prosthetic, which had been a little too small for her: like squeezing herself into a space that didn't quite fit.

To the school's credit, they had done their best to accommodate her: she had an academic supervisor who gave her tasks to 'suit her skill level' so she could still study in a group of children more or less her own age. But it meant that she mostly learned alone. She didn't contribute much in group work or class discussions because whenever she did, the tone in the room seemed to shift: not envy, or irritation, but just a palpable sense that Maggie's thoughts were _different_.

Still, her preparation to make friends had some success. She made a point to ask the kids around her about their lives and to show interest. She found shared interests (which mostly included books and movies, since this was all she'd been able to do during her many months as an invalid), maintained eye contact, and smiled. She remembered everyone's names, and made an effort not to flaunt her intelligence or family background.

Most kids still thought she was weird, but she managed to gather a small collection of girls she would play with in the playground. She stopped short of inviting them to her house, though. The first time she received an invitation to have a sleepover at someone _else's_ house, Tony looked at her as if she were an alien newly arrived to the planet.

* * *

June, 1995

Construction finished on the Stark Mansion on Point Dume, and Tony and Maggie moved in with Dum-E (he lived in the new, shiny workshop). Maggie had been more focused on school while the place was getting built, but she _loved_ their new home. It was way too big, sure, and anything Tony built was always slightly on the wrong side of _too much_ , but Maggie spent three days just running around the mansion, finding all the rooms and balconies, and staring out at the 360 degree views.

Tony threw a massive party their first weekend in the house, but he'd designed the house so social functions could be kept to one half, and the residential area on the other. Maggie hardly heard the party, though it was later described as one of the most famous social events in Malibu.

As promised, the mansion had a single, beautiful pool. Maggie had a special waterproof prosthetic for swimming, and sometimes she'd spend hours practicing her strokes or floating with her arms propped on the side of the pool, watching the sun glitter on the Pacific.

She loved sitting on the roof and watching the sun go down, and jumping from the rocks on the point into the ocean.

For all the wealth and glamor, however, she still caught the bus to school. Tony had wanted to get her a personal driver, but lots of other girls at school caught the bus, and she had a pager with a panic button if she ever needed it. She liked the bus better: she got more opportunities to make friends, and she got to see more of the city.

Once when she was walking from the bus stop to school, down the road with the shopping complex, she saw a blonde woman in weird green and black armor outside a phone box talking to two men in dark suits. _Los Angeles is so weird_. She hurried past, glancing back when it occurred to her that the armor had looked cool, but the woman was already gone.

* * *

The older she got, the more Maggie forgot how it felt to have two legs. The feeling of the metal plates she could feel under her skin on her back, the smooth scarring below her right leg, it all felt… like _her_. When Tony called her _cyborg_ or _bionic girl_ it just made her smile, because she felt like her implants and her prosthetic leg made her _more_ , not less.

Each year she was resized for a prosthetic, and every few months Tony came up with some new design or feature he wanted her to try out. He trialled ankle joints and neural connectivity and 3D printing and different kinds of polymers, and Maggie gave her honest feedback after a week or so of walking around on each new design. They kept each prosthetic in a special case in the garage, a slowly-lengthening line of lower legs.

Maggie felt completely confident in her movement, but she noticed that she still had a slight unevenness to her gait - most people never noticed it, but she worked hard to smoothen it out.

As a natural consequence of Tony's new obsession, Stark Industries began to market medical technology, specifically prosthetics and spinal implants. Obie loved this, he said it was "good press," for the weapons manufacturing company. Maggie just felt glad that her and Tony's mad experiment was helping other people.

She noticed that sometimes people looked at her leg funny, and even Tony sometimes got uncomfortable, as if he felt _guilty_ for it all. So Maggie took to her circumstances in the Stark way: with a sense of humor. Once, she took out all her old legs and made a trail of them through the mansion for Tony to see when he got home, leading to her bedroom, where the covers were pulled up and two flesh-colored right legs stuck out from the bottom of the duvet. Once or twice when Tony said something _really_ awful, she'd take her leg off and hit him with it.

One evening when she was ten, Tony was standing by one of the wall-to-wall windows, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand as he stared sightlessly out at the sunset, when he heard a loud _smash._

"Aw, I really put my foot in it this time," came Maggie's voice.

Tony let out a sigh and turned to walk into the living room. "What terrible joke have you set up now, Maggot?" He strode down the steps and into the room to see the glass coffee table smashed to smithereens, with Maggie's latest prosthetic leg (a sleek black frame with internal wiring to measure walking distance) lying in the middle of it.

Maggie leaned against the couch beside the pile of smashed glass, her cheeks flushed.

Tony stared. "You… smashed the coffee table for a punchline?"

She shifted guiltily, keeping perfect balance even on one leg. "No, uh… the table was an accident. The punchline was… secondary. I'm sorry?"

Tony huffed and strode over to extract her leg. He checked it over for damage. "We can afford the coffee table, Margarine, but I'm worried about you hurting yourself. What happened?"

"Just tripped."

He looked up and met her eyes. "How is everything going with the physio?" She still had a weekly appointment.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "It's fine, Tony, I've been walking on a prosthetic for years now. But…" she crossed her arms over her chest. "I guess I'm not always perfect."

"I could've told you that," he joked, but then circled the smashed coffee table to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She was taller than his waist, now. "Come on, Destructo-bot. Let's get you some ice cream."

* * *

One winter day the next year, Tony came up from the workshop to find Maggie wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, her back to the room. Her latest prosthetic, a carbon fibre model, was propped against the side of the couch.

"Sleeping on the job, Terminator?"

Maggie looked over her shoulder to peer at him, and winced.

Tony stilled. "Mags? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her face was pale and drawn, and he noticed three hot water bottles propped around her on the couch.

"Doesn't look like nothing. You sick?" For a moment he was torn between going closer to check on her, and avoiding germs. He opted for going closer and setting his hand on her forehead. "I'm gonna be honest, Magma, I have no idea how hot a human forehead is supposed to be."

She smacked his hand away and rolled over to face him. "I'm not sick. It's just… colder than usual. Hurts."

"Hurts?"

Maggie gestured over her shoulder. "My scars hurt."

"Oh." Tony sat by her feet (foot), thinking furiously. "I can look into the latest research on scar tissue, we'll-"

"I don't want to look up more surgeries, Tony," she sighed, suddenly seeming a lot older than eleven. "This happens sometimes. The doctors think the flare ups are because I'm growing faster. Just… could you get me another heat pack? I'll be okay soon."

Tony obeyed. He rushed to the kitchen, found Maggie's stash of heat packs, and then burned the first one because he was too distracted. He paid more attention the second time around.

"So this happens often?" he asked Maggie when he returned with the warm bag of wheat. He'd never noticed. _How could I not notice?_

Maggie shrugged, and winced as she set the heat pack against her lower back. "Sometimes it's not even the cold, sometimes they just… hurt. And my leg…" she peeled up the bottom of her blanket to peer at her disarticulated limb. She'd taken off her shrinking sock, leaving just the bare flesh. Tony eyed the round end of her limb below her knee. It had healed well, leaving a pale, pearly scar.

Maggie rubbed the end of her leg. "Sometimes it hurts, too. Sometimes it hurts where I don't even have a real leg anymore, like my old leg is back and haunting me." At the alarmed look in Tony's eye, Maggie waved a hand. "I looked it up and talked about it with my physio ages ago, it's called phantom limb pain. I know what to do for it. And the scars will get better, I've got this medicinal oil stuff for them, and apparently once I'm done growing they'll settle."

Tony sat beside Maggie, stunned. He didn't know any of this, she had just _dealt_ with it. He'd always known she was self-sufficient, but… "You can tell me this stuff, you know," he murmured.

She eyed him. "I'm telling you now."

He nodded. "I know, but… you don't have to look after yourself all the time. I can help."

"I know you can."

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. He didn't know what he was trying to say. "I… I'm sorry, Mags. I wish I could make it…" _make it go away_. "Make it better."

Maggie smiled at him. "You got me a heat pack. You are making it better."

And that eased his guilt a little bit. But he was the CEO of an international tech company and the owner of a lot of money and properties. He felt like he should be able to do more to help his sister. He just didn't know how.

* * *

That same winter, Tony sat Maggie down in the kitchen to give her The Talk. He tried to hide his discomfort, but he couldn't help but fidget with a piece of ornamental fruit as he began:

"Maggie, I think it's time we talked about… the changes your body are going to go through, in the next few years-"

"Oh, puberty?" she questioned, looking up from her cereal.

Tony's teeth clicked together when he shut his mouth. "Uh. Yes."

"I know all about it already," she said without a hint of embarrassment. "They gave us a lesson at school, and then I got curious so I looked it all up."

"You looked… all… what up?"

"Puberty, and babies, and periods, and sex" - Tony flinched, but Maggie didn't hesitate - "and hormones and all that. They had some good books in the library, and the internet answered all my other questions."

Tony let out a long breath and gripped the counter to support himself. "And are you… are you okay?" He looked into her young, calm face.

Maggie cocked her head. "I'm fine. Why not? Oh - don't worry about my health, Dr Khatri said she would refer me to a gynaecologist when I need one, and she said that I shouldn't have any growing complications with my spinal implants or the prosthetic."

"That's… good, really, I just meant, this can be a lot to learn about, _especially_ by yourself," Tony said, trying to rally himself. "Do you have any... questions?"

Maggie stuck out her bottom lip, thinking. "Usually I just research my questions. Um… do we have any history of sexual health problems in our family?"

Tony tried not to go white. "No, I think we're all fine."

"Good," she nodded. "Then no, that's it."

Tony nodded, drew in a steadying breath, then circled the kitchen island to drop a kiss on the crown of Maggie's head. "You did good, kid."

Then he strode down to his workshop to fix himself a strong drink.

* * *

As soon as she got back to school, Maggie was an active kid. She loved PE class, but for two crucial reasons she was never accepted onto any teams. One, because of her medical history: no coach wanted to take the risk of her injuring herself further in a team sport. Two, because she was a Stark. Apparently it was considered either an _unfair advantage_ or an _unnecessary disadvantage_.

Maggie accepted this in her stride. Until they rejected her for the gymnastics team.

She wasn't sure why it was that particular rejection that struck a chord with her, but finally she found Tony in his workshop and asked him to let her get a private gymnastics teacher.

"A what?" he asked, looking up from the engine of his latest vintage car.

"A private teacher. I want to learn gymnastics."

"Why?"

Maggie shrugged, and made sure not to shuffle her feet. "I want to try a sport. And I can't get on any teams. This is one I can do by myself."

Tony's brow pinched together at that, and a moment later he shrugged. "Sure. I mean, yes. I'll, um…"

"I've already found a teacher on the internet that sounds good. You just have to contact her for me."

The corner of Tony's mouth tugged up. "Give me the phone number."

* * *

So Maggie began her solo gymnastics training. And she'd picked her teacher well: they started off with stretching, rolling on the floor, and 'learning to jump'. Her teacher, Ms Sato, didn't seem to mind that Maggie didn't have all the body parts she was born with. Together they found a way for Maggie to incorporate her various prosthetic legs into her balance and her movement. Soon she felt just as steady on her prosthetic as she did on her other leg.

Then things got harder. They started on the balance beam (which Maggie fell off of more than she stayed on), learned cartwheels, rings, trampolining and tumbling.

The more she learned, the more Maggie realized why she'd been drawn to this in the first place: gymnastics was about understanding and controlling her body, understanding everything it could be capable of. For a girl who'd had very little control over her body for a long time, this felt like stealing back a bit of power. For the first time, she designed a prosthetic leg completely on her own: a non-slip, flexible limb that could handle the hard impacts on the gym floor.

Tony bought an olympic-grade trampoline for the house, after the fifth time he found Maggie jumping on his patent leather couch.

Maggie got strong: at the end of a year she was able to pull herself completely up on the rings and flip around. She started to stay on the balance beam more than she fell off of it. And on the trampoline she flew ever higher, higher, no longer scared by what would happen when her feet hit the ground again.

"You know," said Ms Sato one day after Maggie successfully mastered a double front somersault with a twist on the trampoline, "we could get you started doing this competitively, if you wanted."

Maggie, eleven and about to start high school, brushed her hair back from her face. "Seriously?" she was under no illusions that she was the smoothest gymnast - she wobbled and slipped and landed wrong (especially on her prosthetic) all the time.

Ms Sato nodded contemplatively. "Junior levels, of course. Your own age range. You would place, I'm sure of it." The corner of her mouth tugged up in a rare smile. "The judges would love you, of course."

Maggie sat down, scratching at the sock on her right leg, and thought about it. She tried to imagine it: comparing her skills to those of other children, waiting with butterflies in her stomach for her turn to perform in front of the judges. Maybe having her name read out at the end, a prize for her skills.

Ms Sato was watching her face. "You don't want to, do you?"

Maggie looked up guiltily. "I don't. Sorry."

Ms Sato smiled again. "That's okay, I don't do this for the medals you know. Neither do you, it seems."

Maggie shrugged one shoulder. "I just… I don't think I'm doing this for other people."

Ms Sato squeezed her shoulder. "And that, Maggie, is what makes you a gymnast."

* * *

A week after she turned twelve, in the summer break before Maggie started at her new high school, Tony found her outside on the trampoline again.

Maggie didn't notice him at first. She'd started off easy, just jumping as high as she could go, her arms loose and her ponytail flipping in the air. Tony had built the trampoline near the pool, overlooking the Pacific. The higher she jumped, the easier it was to pretend that she was soaring through the air, the wind rushing past her ears and her limbs weightless, flying. Then she started practicing some of her tricks: wrapping her arms tight to her chest and flipping in tight spins, curling into a ball and rolling head over heels. The wind whistled over her cleanly-angled prosthetic.

Her skin prickled with the thrill of it. She loved orienting herself in midair even if she was upside down and spinning, understanding where her body was and how she could move in just the right way to land perfectly.

When she began to slow, she heard a voice from behind her.

"You've gotten good."

She turned, still bouncing, to see Tony leaning against one of the foam blocks around the trampoline, orange sunglasses shielding his eyes. He hadn't been home last night (she'd been supervised by the nanny, of course), and she could tell from his rumpled clothes and hair that he'd been out partying somewhere. It made her smile - she liked Tony's brand of fun, carefree and larger than life.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly.

Tony cocked his head. "Aren't you supposed to have a spotter or something?"

Maggie pressed her lips together as she slowed her bouncing. _Yes, and Ms Sato would kill me if she knew I was alone._ She elected not to answer that question.

But Tony was still peering at her. "Why do you like all this stuff?"

Maggie stopped bouncing, her feet coming to rest on the wire surface: one flesh, one rubber. "Because... " _because it makes me feel alive._ She swallowed. _Because you don't understand - no one understands - the anger coiled up so tightly inside me like barbed wire, and this is a way of loosening it._ "Because if I can land on my feet after doing a flip in midair, then… everything else is easy." She stepped cleanly from the trampoline onto solid ground again, and then lifted her flesh leg to show how she could balance on her prosthetic without a wobble. "See?"

Tony eyed her for a few long moments, unreadable behind his sunglasses. Finally, he murmured: "Yeah. I see." He cocked his head. "Did I ever mention that you're the best person I've ever met?"

Maggie's face broke open in a grin. "No. I can't return the compliment, either."

Tony launched forward to unbalance her, and Maggie set off running with a shriek.

* * *

After her second week of high school, Maggie slammed the front door behind her and stormed past Tony where he sat on the couch, snoozing through a conference call.

He jerked upright and watched her toss her school bag by the door. "Hey, how was school?" he asked, fumbling to mute himself on the call. "You had the, um, the thing…" he squeezed his eyes shut. "Swim practice?"

"I didn't make the team," Maggie bit out. She stormed down the hallway and a minute later he heard the _slam_ of her door.

Tony frowned. "She's not a teenager yet. Did I start this young?" he wondered aloud.

There was a polite cough over his headset. " _Mr Stark, sorry if we're interrupting anything…_ "

 _Right._ Tony touched his headset. "Mind your business, Laurie."

* * *

Maggie fell face-first onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. When her voice went hoarse she rolled off her bed and wandered around her room: opening drawers, slamming them, moving stuff around, feeling aimless and angry.

Finally, when she could find nothing else to mess with, she strode into her bathroom, glared at herself in the mirror for a few moments, then turned and pulled up the back of her shirt.

She hadn't thought much about the scars until today. Her back was a minefield of them: clean, pale fissures up the line of her spine and down across her hips, smaller pockmarks of scars from shattered glass in the car crash and the spidery sprawl left behind by a contact burn . Her skin was a map of scars that stretched and warped as she grew. The knobs of metal were visible under her skin, as well.

Maggie hadn't cared until today. It wasn't like she regularly looked at her back. But today she'd walked out in her one piece swimming suit to the school pool, more excited about maybe being finally able to join a team than nervous about showing her scars. She should have known.

_Gross, what the hell is on your back?_

Maggie's mouth turned down and she let her shirt fall over the scars. She'd already had enough jokes from the highschoolers already: she was too young, too small (even though she was tall for her age), too sheltered.

Maggie had held her chin high as the three girls on the swim team pointed at her scars and made horrified faces, until she'd finally run back to the changing rooms. She hadn't even stepped foot in the pool.

She turned and faced herself in the mirror. For a moment the girls' words washed over her and pressed her down. The words felt like claws dragging over her back, tearing her open.

But then a frown crossed her face. _I don't even know those girls' names._

She thought about it. And the more she thought about it, she began to wonder why she'd bothered to turn around and leave.

* * *

The next day, Maggie arrived at school in short shorts and a tank top, showing off the edges of her stretched white scars.

She got dress coded by a teacher almost immediately, but it was worth it. The wide eyes and stunned silence of her classmates had been enough for her to know she'd made her point.

(When the school called Tony, he laughed and hung up on them).

Maggie didn't dress quite like that after that day, but she certainly stopped bothering to hide her scars. She got a few stares from time to time, but she'd decided to learn a little from Tony and not give two shits about what other people thought of her. Over time, the people who mattered most seemed to forget about her scars entirely.

* * *

November, 1998

Happy Hogan's first day on the job was… strange.

Everyone had been warning him about working for Tony Stark since he signed on: apparently no bodyguard had stuck with him for longer than six months. Even the Head of Security for Stark Industries, who'd hired him, had given him a warning: _hope you've got thick skin and a skill for finding runaway billionaires._

Happy was pretty sure he had both, but he supposed it was the sort of thing one learned on the job.

After picking up his badge from HR, he strode through the bustling, gleaming hive of the Stark Industries headquarters. The complex itself took up nearly eight city blocks, but he'd prepared in advance by reading over the complex floor plans. It took him a few minutes to get from HR to the executive offices, eyeing the sleek white walls and feature windows along the way. This place was a big change from the homely gyms and sticky boxing rings he was used to. But he supposed that was the life of a boxer: it was a job with a time limit. And Happy's time had come. The fact he hadn't thought about what would come next was his own fault.

Happy reached up to rub an old scar, and in the same moment spotted a frazzled-looking blonde woman at the other end of the corridor. She had an earbud in one ear and a clipboard in her hands, talking rapidly to someone on the phone. "No, I can't reschedule you for this week. I _understand_ your last meeting was cancelled but I'm afraid I can't-"

Happy hurried over and stepped in front of her to get her attention. "You're Mr Stark's PA, right? Sorry to interrupt, but could you let me know where to find him?"

The woman shot him a look as if he was crazy, laughed under her breath, and then sidestepped him to keep walking.

Happy tugged the sleeves of his newly-bought suit. _Hm._

He headed to the undercover parking lot where only the execs were allowed to park, hoping to figure out the driving situation. But he'd only been in the lot for about two minutes, eying the range of dark Audis, when the far door slammed open. Happy glanced up, reaching for his weapon, only to spot the man himself.

Mr Stark looked just like he did in the pictures: young, styled hair, in a fine suit, with a beard groomed into sharp lines. Maybe ten years younger than Happy. Mr Stark speed-walked down the parking lot, glancing over his shoulder, and a moment later the door swung open behind him.

"Mr Stark!" called the same flustered blonde PA from before. "You need to look over these forms from legal before you go-"

Mr Stark sped up his pace, still glancing over his shoulder, only to bounce off Happy. He glanced up, a furrow between his brows.

"I'm your driver, Mr Stark," Happy said by way of introduction.

The young man's frown vanished. "Oh, good. Get me out of here."

Happy obliged, grabbing the key HR had provided him with and clicking it. A nondescript dark car three spaces down chirped, and he and Mr Stark both hurried toward it.

As Mr Stark climbed into the back seat Happy gunned the engine, checked his mirrors - safety first - and then peeled out of the parking lot. He watched the PA glare at him through the rear-view mirror.

As they hit the main road outside the complex, Mr Stark tugged off his tie and then peered at Happy. "I don't remember your name."

"You never got it, sir. First day on the job."

"Oh." Moments later, Stark peered closer. "No, I remember now. You're the… the boxer, right?"

Happy nodded briskly. "I'll be your personal chauffeur and bodyguard."

"Name?"

"Happy, sir. Happy Hogan."

Mr Stark shot him a bemused look. "Yeah, I can see that." He slumped back into his chair, sighing, and then reached for a compartment in the middle seat that Happy hadn't realized was there, pulling out a whiskey carafe and a tumbler. Happy eyed him once through the mirror as he poured himself a glass.

He'd thought they were going to drive in silence the rest of the way, but when Mr Stark had finished his whiskey, he looked up again.

"Hey, _Happy_. I feel a sudden urge for pizza."

Happy pulled into the next Pizza Hut he saw. He wasn't sure if it was a test or what, but he didn't much care. Mr Stark ordered three pizzas, and then handed one wordlessly to Happy as they started driving again. Happy twitched his eyebrow at Mr Stark, then placed the pizza in the passenger seat.

They drove in silence the rest of the way to the Stark mansion - which Happy had been told the location of earlier - and when Happy pulled down the winding driveway to the front of the house, Mr Stark slid out the door with his pizzas. Happy shut off the engine and followed.

"Now," Mr Stark called over his shoulder, "my assistant probably told you what she _thinks_ my schedule is." Happy didn't bother to correct him. "But I'm not going to that meeting this evening, I'm watching a movie here, and then after her highness goes to bed I'm thinking… hit the casino, maybe even catch a flight to Vegas if I'm feeling lucky." He looked over his shoulder to eye Happy's face, as if waiting for him to react. "Hm. Or maybe I'll go drag racing."

"You'd probably want a different car if you're planning on drag racing," Happy said evenly, glancing back at the dark executive car they'd arrived in.

Mr Stark's eyebrows rose, and his eyes glinted. "Remind me to show you the hotrods I've got in the garage." He balanced the pizzas on one hand and opened his glass front door with the other. The door wasn't even _locked._ Happy didn't follow right away. Instead he pushed back his sleeves and went to scope out the exterior of the building, noting all the exits and potential entrances. He'd been given the blueprints, but a building was always different in person.

Happy was only really supposed to be on hand for Stark's transport, and protection at public appearances and that sort of thing, but he figured he'd be a poor bodyguard if he didn't ensure the man was safe in his own home.

When he'd walked around as much of the building as he could (half of it hung off the cliff face) Happy went back to the front door and stepped inside. The interior was clean and sleek like the Stark Industries building, but the place definitely looked lived in. Stark had kicked his shoes off by the door, and there was a tartan scarf draped over a box lamp in the corner of the foyer. Happy made his way through to the living area, relying on his memory of the blueprints.

Mr Stark wasn't in the living area, but it wasn't empty.

A young girl with a bright purple prosthetic leg sat on a low couch by a massive window overlooking the ocean, eating a slice of pizza.

Ms Stark. She wasn't in the news as much as her brother, but Happy still knew her face. He was startled by the normality of the scene though: her schoolbag sagged open by her feet, with a textbook on the brink of falling out of it. She wore a school uniform, and had cheese on her chin.

Ms Stark looked up, spotted Happy at the other end of the room, and put down her pizza. As if she didn't want to eat it in front of him.

"Hey," she said, nodding at him. "Tony said you were here spying on us. He called you Happy."

"I'm just here for reconnaissance," Happy corrected her.

"That's something spies do," she told him. "Is your name even really Happy?"

"I - no," he admitted. "It's Harold."

Ms Stark made a face, then frowned at him. "Are you a soldier? All the other ones were."

"No." He glanced around. "Could you tell me where Mr Stark went? I'm supposed to debrief him before I leave to monitor the street."

"I think he's hiding from you," Ms Stark told him. "Don't take it personally, he doesn't like having a minder."

Happy shrugged. "I'll find him." He turned to go.

"Try the workshop first." Happy glanced over his shoulder at Ms Stark, who was still eyeing him closely. "And hey, the trick with Tony isn't keeping him out of trouble. It's keeping him in just enough trouble that he doesn't get bored, but not so much he gets hurt. Y'know?"

Happy smiled at that. For a twelve year old, Ms Stark sure had her brother's number. "I understand. Thank you, Ms Stark."

He left the room, heading for the workshop, and wondered if she knew that he'd been hired to protect her too.

* * *

When Happy reached the six-month anniversary of the day he'd signed on at Stark Industries, no one bothered to congratulate him. They still all thought he'd quit any day now. And sure, he had his days when he wanted to throw his employee badge at Mr Stark and take off driving into the sunset, but mostly… he felt, for the first time since he'd been in a boxing ring, that he was where he was meant to be.

He'd forged goodwill, if not friendship, with both of the siblings in their own way. Tony would never admit it, but Happy could tell he was glad he'd found someone who wouldn't suck up to him or take any of his shit, but also wouldn't mother him. Maggie, on the other hand, seemed to relate much better to adults than children and seemed happy to have another sensible adult around to talk to.

Tony required a lot more protection than Maggie, since he was the face of Stark Industries. But a few weeks into being hired, once Happy got used to running around after Tony, he found himself driving Maggie to school when she missed the bus.

"You know how to defend yourself?" he'd asked out of nowhere.

Maggie had looked up at him and shrugged. "I've got a panic button."

"No, that's no good." He'd eyed her in the rear view mirror. "When you get back this afternoon, meet me in the gym. I'll teach you how to box."

He'd been expecting a groan, or for her to roll her eyes. He wasn't quite sure how to feel when her eyes _gleamed_.

And sure enough Maggie took to boxing with great enthusiasm, even if her skills were lacking at first. Once a week, no matter how busy the SI schedule was, Happy made sure to take Maggie through some drills in the mansion gym. He taught her to keep her hands up and her head down, how to control her breathing, how to turn her whole body into a punch and where to hit an opponent bigger than her. Because Maggie might be tall for her age, but Happy couldn't help but feel worried that the heir to a controversial, multi-billion dollar company was a little girl with a prosthetic leg. He figured Tony had the same concerns, since Tony never tried to interrupt their training sessions.

Maggie was an eager learner, though, silent and watchful. She was too young to hit anything very hard, but the building blocks were there. Happy felt sure that in a few years she'd be more or less able to handle herself in a fight. She had the guts for a fight, that was certain. Sometimes, when she was hitting the bag, Happy thought he saw shadows in her eyes that belonged to a much older, much angrier person. But she never turned those shadows on him.

Occasionally she and Happy watched footage of his old fights, and Happy encouraged her to point out his mistakes. She might not have much in the way of punching power, but she could read a fighter better than most boxers Happy had gone up against. Slight balance shifts, a dropped guard, an exhaled breath; she spotted it all.

(Later, when they became better friends, Happy and Maggie would take to watching period dramas together.)

In a way, Happy felt more protective of Tony. Because he wasn't sure what it was - maybe her traumatic past - but something had made Maggie more cautious and reserved. She kept people at a distance. She kept secrets, and she didn't seem to enjoy being around lots of people she didn't know well. She was suspicious in a way Tony had never learned to be. Happy sensed that about her early on, and directed more focused supervision to Tony.

At six months Happy Hogan had not quite figured it out yet, but he was to be the Stark family's protector for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm spruiking the [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmyEFm4fuH4rlSCu7CQmlQqDkrNpUrqWi) again!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys? All the Disney content that just got announced this week! We are truly spoiled. I'm so excited for Phase Four of the MCU, as well as all the Star Wars and Disney stuff. It's going to be a nice change.
> 
> There is some underage drinking in this chapter - I do not condone this! But let's be real, Tony probably started drinking when he went to college at 14. And Maggie's cut from the same cloth.

Ever since Maggie was well enough, Rhodey began taking her on roadtrips to his Air Force base in Southern California. He'd been making leaps and bounds as an Air Force officer, and a few days after Maggie's twelfth birthday he was hired officially as the Stark Industries military liaison.

Mostly Rhodey just showed Maggie around the hangars and pointed out the different kinds of planes, but once she was well enough and old enough, he started to take her up in the air.

The first time was her eighth birthday. He took her up in one of the 'boring' planes, a small turboprop, but Maggie would later remember it as one of the best days of her life. They'd taken off at dawn and risen up, up, into the pastel blue and yellow sky. Maggie had flown before, but never like this: just her and Rhodey and the loud engine, the sky all around them and the ground far below. She pressed herself against the passenger window until it fogged up, then whooped as Rhodey pulled up into the misty clouds. She'd been torn between staring out the cockpit window, and staring at Rhodey as he easily manned the controls.

The first time Rhodey let her take over the controls was on her twelfth birthday, in a little training monoplane. It was in no way legal or allowed, but Rhodey had long since learned that if you restricted the Stark siblings to age-appropriate activities they'd lose their minds.

The moment Maggie's hands landed on the controls as Rhodey let her take over midair, a strange feeling washed over her. She felt the power of the plane around her, the rush of air over the cockpit, felt the wings shifting under her fingers. An electric thrill ran through her body and the hair on her arms stood on end.

"No feeling like it, is there?" Rhodey murmured, watching her with a smile.

Maggie breathed out shakily, then banked the plane into a tight turn. Rhodey freaked out and tried to take the controls away, but they made it back down to the ground in one piece.

Rhodey became her impromptu trainer. He figured it was better that he try to teach her, rather than Maggie going off to learn how to fly through more dubious means. Because it had been clear since she was small that there would be no steering her away from the sky. And much like her brother (though he was less interested in the whole piloting thing), she was a natural. She quickly figured out the training plane, and Rhodey started her on the flight simulator and more advanced aircraft. When Tony took her on an impromptu trip to the south of France, she sat in the private jet's cockpit with the pilots the whole time, talking their ears off about ailerons and yaw and the latest developments in flight systems controls.

One evening, as Maggie sat in the pilot's seat of a Cessna with her helmet strapped tightly over her head, Rhodey glanced over at her.

"You know, you need a callsign if you want to be a pilot, Maggie. What do you think? How about…" he racked his brain. _Little devil_ came to mind, since she seemed determined to give him a heart attack half the time.

"Um… dragon?" Maggie said quietly.

Rhodey cocked an eyebrow at her. "Dragon?"

Maggie nodded. They'd been reading stories about old medieval heroes in class, about how the heroes killed dragons and wyverns and hydras. But privately, even though they'd been talking about bravery and chivalry and all that in class, Maggie had admired the illustrations of the monsters in their book. One of them had stuck out to her: a dark, scaly creature, all rage and fire, sharp and strong.

Both of Rhodey's eyebrows were raised now, but he just shrugged. "Dragon it is, then."

* * *

June, 1999

Tony had been intending to get into Artificial Intelligence ever since they moved to California. And he'd been looking into it, both in weapons design and while building the mansion, but it wasn't until a lull hit the Stark Industries R&D department that Tony took a few weeks leave, boarded himself up in his workshop, and really put his mind to it.

Maggie, now thirteen and in a punk music phase, happened to be in his workshop at the time. He described to her the idea he'd been turning over in his mind for years, just a seedling really.

"I don't know how applicable it would be for SI," he told her, his feet kicked up on his workshop table and his fingers folded over his stomach. Maggie sat on the edge of the worktable, her knees poking out from the rips in her dark jeans, and her feet (both prosthetic and flesh) stuffed into heavy boots. "More of a user interface, it might work with the computer systems but-"

"You know," Maggie said, "Not everything you build _has_ to be for the company." She smiled, surprised that she had to remind Tony that he could be selfish. She'd built plenty of things for herself - prosthetics, computer programs. Sure, most of them had ended up at SI anyway, but she'd made them for _herself._

Tony unlaced his fingers and peered at her. "Y'know what, you're right." He nodded to himself. "You're right. It might turn out to be a disaster, but screw it." He pushed his chair over to his computer station, then glanced back at Maggie. "You're going to help, right?"

Maggie cocked her head. She had a lot of homework. "What's the project name?" Tony always had good names.

He glanced back at the computers as he started booting up his coding programs. "I was thinking of calling it Just A Rather Very Intelligent System."

Her brow furrowed for a moment, but then she realized. "J.A.R.V.I.S.," she murmured.

Tony stilled, but did not glance back at her.

Maggie swallowed. "Yeah, I'll help."

* * *

It took months.

Tony and Maggie built J.A.R.V.I.S. around themselves like a pillow fort, like a castle, a friend and protector and child. A shield against the world. A support.

It - _he_ \- was really Tony's brainchild, but Maggie read over every single line of code, learning from his work and (occasionally) suggesting revisions and additions. It was in those days that Maggie finally realized that what everyone had been saying was true: Tony was the smartest person on Earth. She hoped she could be half as smart as him one day.

(Unbeknownst to her, Tony watched Maggie reading, understanding, and improving his work, and wondered if he'd have been able to do the same at thirteen. _Maybe_ , he thought. Either way, he was excited to see what she'd come up with when she was his age.)

The closer they got to building a complete interface, the longer they spent working on it. Happy gave up waiting at the front door when Tony needed to be somewhere, and learned that it was just easiest to go down to the workshop where he would no doubt be, squinting at lines of code on his screen. More often than not, Maggie was there reading over his shoulder, or fast asleep propped against Dum-E. Rhodey despaired of them both.

After many long nights of failures, Tony and Maggie sat on the workshop floor together, surrounded by clipped wires and computer screens, dark shadows under their eyes as they ran yet another set of code. This was their sixteenth try of running the interface they'd built, and ironing out the minute errors and inconsistencies in the code was proving a Herculean task. Maggie didn't know what day it was, or when the last time she'd slept was.

But then.

" _Good evening sir. Good evening Ms Stark. How can I help you this evening_?"

Maggie dropped her soldering iron with a clatter, and Tony flinched so violently he nearly knocked over the whole computer array.

"You're working!" Tony exclaimed.

" _I am_ ," came the even voice. Maggie and Tony had given the natural language UI a British accent without really discussing the decision. Maggie had heard the voice before in samples, but never had she heard it speak _independently_. She wondered if this was how Doctor Frankenstein felt. " _I am J.A.R.V.I.S._ "

Maggie laughed, more out of a manic tiredness than anything, and Tony's eyes shone. Dum-E chirped, his claw opening and closing by Maggie's ear.

" _All systems appear to be operational,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. said, his voice emanating from the discreet speakers they had set up across the workshop. " _Hello, Mr and Ms Stark_."

Maggie and Tony grinned at each other.

"Hello, J.A.R.V.I.S.," they said in unison.

" _Shall I commence upload to the whole-house interface, sir_?"

Tony nodded, then laughed at himself and scratched his head. "Uh, yes, J.A.R.V.I.S.," he told the UI. "Commence the Welcome Home procedure."

" _Very well, sir_."

Maggie held up a hand. Tony hi-fived it.

"And this is just Phase One!" he exclaimed, already dragging a computer toward himself to run an eye over the code. "Just wait until I equip him with a camera system, and automate the house-"

Maggie laughed, shaking her head at Tony, because of _course_ this was only the beginning. Then her laugh turned into a jaw-cracking yawn, and Tony looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. The far windows showed nothing but darkness.

"Hey," he said. "I think it's your bedtime. J.A.R.V.I.S., make sure Maggie goes to bed."

"Oh no, you are _not_ using this nice UI to spy on me. Is that understood, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" They'd programmed the UI to learn in response to commands, but she wasn't sure how well that would work.

" _Yes, Ms Stark. In any case, I have set your bedroom lights to low, and your climate control system to your preferred settings_."

Maggie grinned at Tony. "He's making social inferences, like you said!"

Tony had that gleam in his eyes again. She could see the ideas swirling in his mind. "Next phase, I'm going to start working on the personality mimic we talked about - but first I'm going to watch like all the robot destruction movies to make sure I don't create a HAL 9000 or anything."

Maggie used Tony's shoulder as a handhold on her way up to her feet. "I won't let you." She yawned again. "Goodnight, Tony. Don't stay up too late." She started trudging toward the stairs. "Goodnight, J.A.R.V.I.S.," she said tentatively. She thought Tony would make fun of her for saying it, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was smiling.

It took a few seconds for the newly born UI to respond. Maggie couldn't remember if they'd ever programed him for an endearment like that.

" _Good night, Ms Stark_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. told her, a little softer in volume than earlier.

Maggie smiled the whole way up to her bedroom, which was just the right temperature and dimly lit, and smiled until she fell asleep.

* * *

March, 2000

"J.A.R.V.I.S., where's Maggie?" Tony glanced around the living area, where he would normally be able to find his little sister, but as she'd gotten older she'd developed a habit of wandering off. She was almost fourteen, and growing at a terrifying rate. She'd be taller than him by her next birthday. His fingers clenched on the folder in his hand.

" _Ms Stark was recently on her trampoline, but has since relocated to the roof_."

"Does she know about this?" Tony waved the folder at the nearest camera as he made for the stairs.

J.A.R.V.I.S., of course, knew what he was referring to: not only did he catalogue the paper mail that came to the house, but a copy had also come through Tony's email, which J.A.R.V.I.S. monitored. " _I don't believe so, sir. But it will hardly come as a surprise_."

Jaw clenched, Tony climbed upstairs, pushed through the door onto the roof, and looked around. He'd designed the mansion so that you could walk around on most of the roof, or sunbathe, and sure enough he spotted Maggie at the far end, lying on her front with her chin propped on her folded hands, looking out to sea. The sun filtered down onto the roof, surprisingly warm for the season, making her metal prosthetic glint.

Tony marched over and dropped the folder in front of her face. Maggie didn't flinch - she must've heard him coming. The folder fell open before her nose, revealing the school report inside. Maggie reached out and flicked through a few pages. Her dark eyes didn't show any sign of surprise as she read.

_English - D  
Social Sciences - D  
Math - C-_

Seeing the grades again made Tony's teeth grind. "What's this about?" he asked.

She flipped the folder closed and shrugged. "Boring classes."

His lips pressed together. He considered yelling, but eventually sighed. "Look," he said. "I don't give a shit if you fail your classes."

Maggie's head jerked up and she stared at him.

He shrugged. "You and I both know that you're going to get into any college or job you want. You've sure as shit got a job at Stark Industries." Her eyebrows rose. "But I _do_ care about _why_ you're failing your classes." He crouched, then took a seat on the roof beside her. "Because you can obviously pass them," he continued. Sure, he'd struggled with the humanities side of things in school, but grading was a _system_ , and he'd always understood systems. He met Maggie's eyes. "And _you_ are never bored of learning."

Maggie's eyes widened, and then she looked away. Tony reached for the report again and flipped through it. Maggie's teachers seemed just as baffled as he felt. _Maggie pays attention and engages well in class_ , her science teacher had written _, but seems to be struggling with her assessment this year. Two assignments were never handed in, and the other two showed a marked decrease in quality from last year._

Tony shook his head.

Finally, Maggie spoke. Her voice was so soft as she looked away from him that Tony had to strain to hear her. "Do you ever feel like… like being the way that you are, is what makes other people keep their distance?"

Tony set down the report, stunned. He'd gotten used to being more or less alone. To people knowing who and what he was before they even met him. He'd thought that was just the way things were. He frowned. "Yes."

Maggie's head tilted and he saw a sliver of her face through her tousle of dark hair: she was frowning.

"All my life," Tony began, "I've been different because of what I can do. People treat me - us - differently." He let that sink in. "And I get wanting to be normal. I've had days when I wished people didn't know my face, when I wished that my brain wasn't some kind of… commodity." He shifted uncomfortably. "But Maggie… this isn't about _other people_. This is about you, and how you treat yourself. About what you want to prove to yourself. If you want to push down who you are to make friends more easily, then that's your prerogative. But just… promise me you'll think about _why_ you're doing this."

He slid the closed report back across to her, then got to his feet and walked away. As he reached the door, he glanced back over at his sister. She'd picked up the report again and was reading through it. Sighing, Tony strode inside.

* * *

The next semester, Maggie's report came back all A's, and she'd even picked up some AP classes and other college credits. Her teacher's notes read like worship. And Maggie didn't look exactly happy about it when Tony waved the report excitedly at her, but she looked as if she inhabited her own skin again.

* * *

July, 2001

It was a Tuesday evening, and Tony and Maggie had ordered Chinese. Maggie sometimes wondered if people ever guessed that this was how Tony lived when he wasn't at the parties or the work events or the glamorous outings: hunched over on his living room floor, scarfing down egg rolls. Maggie mostly lived the expected life of a fifteen year old: school, extracurriculars, friends, occasionally sneaking out (not that she'd figured out how to avoid J.A.R.V.I.S.'s watchful eye, but either he never told Tony or Tony was letting her have her freedom). She didn't have many friends to sneak out _with_ , she just liked walking along the beach at night.

"Got a new PA today," Tony said through a mouthful of fried rice. Behind him, Maggie could just see the moon glowing on the surface of the dark ocean.

"Anne-Louise quit, then," she said.

"Yeah, last week." He looked up. "I thought I told you."

Maggie shrugged. "She stopped calling you and you missed two days of work last week, so I figured."

"Anyway, new PA."

"Are you awful to her, too?" she asked, reaching for the egg rolls before Tony devoured them all.

"Probably." He made a face. "I can't really help it."

"You could, you just don't like your job."

"I don't like _some_ parts of the job."

Maggie fought to control her chopsticks. "So how long will the new one last?"

Tony scratched the back of his neck and didn't answer. He _looked_ absorbed by his food, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Finally, he said: "She's a redhead. Real spiky personality."

Her nose scrunched. "I don't want to hear it." Bad enough that half the girls in her school couldn't get enough of staring at her brother's pictures in magazines.

"SI didn't hire her this time," Tony continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I did."

Maggie finally looked up, frowning. She'd caught a note in his voice that she didn't recognise. "Why?"

"Well technically she's been working for us a few months, in the finance department. But today she, uh, apparently found an error - turns out some stiff in Legal has been embezzling, but that's beside the point - and she came up to tell me about it in person. And Happy's off today visiting his sister, so it was one of the jumpy SI Security guys outside my office, and they apparently decided that this finance lady looked like a threat."

Maggie stared. "And?"

"And they pepper sprayed her."

She didn't stop staring. "Is she okay?"

"What?" Tony had been fiddling with the buttons on the end of his sleeves. "Oh yeah, she's fine. Told me about the embezzling with a cold rag over her eyes." He frowned and rolled up his sleeve, smearing sweet and sour sauce over it.

" _And_?" Maggie prompted.

"And… I hired her. I told her I had an opening, since Anne-Lousie quit."

Maggie shook her head. "What's her name?"

"Who?"

" _Your new PA._ "

"Oh, I don't know." He shot her a sideways look. "I've been calling her Pepper."

Maggie fought back her instinctive laugh, and frowned at him. "Because of the-"

"Yes, because of the pepper spray! And her last name is Potts. Come on, Magnesia, it's funny."

"Does _she_ think it's funny?"

"She… I don't know. Hard to say, really. You'll understand when you meet her."

Maggie stared at Tony for a moment longer. She'd long since given up trying to interfere with how he acted at work. Sure she technically had a stake in the company and might even end up running it one day - wasn't _that_ a weird thought - but she wasn't Tony's boss. He'd given her more than enough freedom, given her age, and it only felt right to return the favour.

Though she did feel bad for the people he worked with. The PAs, especially. But after Happy had been hired, she'd begun to hope that Tony wasn't _impossible_ to work with. Turned out it just required a very specific, very _patient_ sort of person.

And yet. "Bet you a hundred bucks she quits before eight months are up," Maggie said.

Tony looked at her fully, and there was a glint in his eyes she didn't quite understand. "You're on, cybertron."

* * *

It took another week for Maggie to meet the infamous Pepper.

Maggie had caught the bus to the SI complex, as she did about twice a month to see what Tony was working on and occasionally to meet the board of investors (since she was technically a part owner, or would be when she turned 21). Today, though, she was there to check out the latest computer targeting system Tony and his team had been building for the Navy.

She walked past the arc reactor building, catching a glimpse of the glowing circular reactor itself through the windows, and nodded to a couple of engineers she recognised. She felt a bit out of place here in her green school uniform and backpack, while everyone else was in suits or lab coats. The only other fifteen year olds on the complex were the occasional high schoolers here on the summer internship program.

A security officer checked her ID (she wondered if this was the one who'd pepper-sprayed Tony's new PA) and let her up to the Research and Development wing. This was Maggie's second favourite place in SI, after the demolitions lab. The wide, light-filled space was part office, part workshop, part computer hub. Rows of desks manned by SI's best and brightest stretched the length of the massive room, engineers bent over drafting tables, and teams put together experimental models in the workshop bay. The murmur of dozens of conversations hummed in the air, accompanied by the tapping of computer keys and the _click_ and slide of metal parts. At the center of the room a soft-glowing blue hologram rotated, the prototype for the SI holo-tech coming out this year. Tony had already set up his home workshop with the technology. Maggie spotted a team of engineers at the far end of the room demonstrating an array of circuit boards to a man in a charcoal suit.

Maggie strode down the rows of desks, unabashedly staring at the dozens of different projects coming to life, and then turned when she heard Tony's voice.

Tony stood silhouetted by the wall-to-wall windows looking out over the sleek complex, wearing an ash-grey suit and waving his hands about as he spoke to… a composed, straight-backed woman with ginger hair and a coffee-coloured power suit. Maggie hung back a little, half-hidden behind a computer bank, watching them.

The woman's hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and her white blouse was perfectly pressed, perfectly poised in sensible heels. She looked utterly professional. Maggie frowned. She wasn't sure what the difference was with this woman, but she _was_ different _._ The other PAs had looked like they either wanted to murder Tony or run from him. This one looked… like _she_ was in control. Tony gestured wildly, clearly attempting to be awful, but the woman just smiled placidly and made a note on her clipboard.

Tony turned away, still talking, then spotted Maggie. He waved, and she trudged over.

"Took you long enough to get here," Tony said by way of greeting. "Maggot, this is Pepper, Pepper, this is Maggot." He flicked a hand between them.

Maggie eyed the woman. She was about the same height as Tony, but she _seemed_ taller. Maggie herself had gained an inch on Tony within the last year, making her taller than both of them.

"Hello Maggie, I've heard a lot about you," Pepper said with a smile, and Maggie instantly realised that this was a woman who knew how to make friends. "You're the only thing he talks about more than machines."

"Well I am part machine," Maggie replied, and with a subtle move of her fingers the mechanism in her latest prosthetic whirred and her whole foot turned 360 degrees. She'd really only designed it that way to make people uncomfortable, but Pepper just smiled.

Maggie eyed Pepper for a few more moments. She'd never bothered that much with Tony's PAs before. The most interaction she usually had with them was when they organised for her to attend SI events.

Finally she turned to Tony. "Show me the new system?"

"Oh, right," Tony said, then flapped a hand at her to guide her to his usual desk.

Pepper watched them go with a shrewd look on her face.

* * *

The next time, Pepper was at the house.

Maggie rolled out of bed on a Saturday morning, put on her leg, and made her way to the kitchen.

" _Good morning, Ms Stark_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. greeted her. " _It's eight AM, the the weather in Malibu is sixty eight degrees, the day is predicted to be overcast._ " Maggie trudged into the kitchen and stopped dead at the sight of Pepper Potts, in another suit (taupe this time), sitting at the kitchen island with her heeled feet crossed and her hands resting on a laptop. J.A.R.V.I.S. continued: " _And there is a visitor._ "

"Hello," Pepper said brightly.

For a moment Maggie thought that she and Tony - that they had… but then Tony strode into the kitchen from his hallway and shot Pepper a scowl.

"How did you get in?"

"Happy brought me here," Pepper said pleasantly. "And J.A.R.V.I.S. let me stay. Since you left yesterday without reviewing the board resolutions I thought we could get them done this morning." Her hand rested on the folder beside her laptop.

"It's a Saturday," Tony grumbled. He was wearing the embroidered pajamas Maggie had gotten him for his birthday.

"And the PR team wants to put these out first thing on Monday morning," Pepper said. "I could come back tomorrow, if it's more convenient?"

For a moment Tony just stared at her. "You're persistent, I'll give you that," he eventually said. He sighed and strode to pick up the folder beside Pepper, flicking it open. "I'm not paying you for working on a Saturday."

"Yes you are," Pepper replied in that same pleasant tone. Tony did not reply. Pepper looked back over at Maggie, and Maggie turned to leave the room.

Half an hour later, Maggie returned to the kitchen to find Tony scrawling his signature on the last page of the document.

"Tony," she said, "can I show you this new move I learned on the trampoline?"

"Yes, absolutely, thank you," Tony blurted out. He dropped the pen on the folder and hurried after Maggie as if the papers (or Pepper) would run after him. Maggie turned to go, but glanced back to see Pepper sigh, gather up the paper to look over it, and then stand to leave.

* * *

A month later Maggie was back at SI, jogging up the stairs to the testing lab where the armor engineering team were trialling their latest body armor line. When she burst through the stairwell doors onto the right floor, she nearly ran into Pepper.

"Hello," Pepper greeted her, waving a small notepad. "I'm just doing the coffee run, would you like a coffee? Or tea, or hot chocolate…?"

"No," Maggie said shortly, out of breath, and hurried past her.

She didn't see Pepper glance after her, her face even.

* * *

When Pepper came back, Maggie was perched on the edge of a desk, watching wide-eyed as a technician slashed a kevlar blend chest plate with a bowie knife. Tony leaned on the other side of the desk, watching closely. The testing lab was a sturdy room with reinforced gunmetal-grey walls, making it appear much grimmer than the rest of the SI complex. Maggie had just leaned over to read the project's brief sheet when she saw Pepper slide through the door balancing a tray of coffees. Pepper strode through the room to hand them out, and finally handed Tony his cup a few feet away from Maggie.

"Where are you going to be next Saturday?" Pepper asked, her eyes on the knife testing as Tony sculled his coffee.

"I thought you were supposed to be in control of his schedule," Maggie said. Not accusingly, just neutral.

Pepper and Tony both glanced over at the sound of her voice, and Maggie noticed a small furrow in Tony's brow.

"I've since learned it's not something you can really _control_ ," Pepper said with a hint of charm. "But I do my best." She arched an eyebrow at Tony.

He shrugged. "Maggie's got a physio appointment that Saturday."

"That's on there," Pepper acknowledged, and Maggie turned away to hide her scowl. The lab technician picked up a machete.

"Thought i might hit the bar scene with Rhodey," Tony added. The lab tech started slashing at the chest plate, letting off a spray of glinting sparks.

"Sounds fine," Pepper said. "Maybe you'd both consider making an appearance at the Endangered Species nonprofit fundraiser on the way."

"You're not slick," Tony said, but there was a smile in his voice. "But Rhodey hasn't figured out how to say no to you yet, so… fine. So what's the deal, we dress up as endangered animals?"

"Cocktail attire will be fine."

Maggie dropped her chin on her fist and wondered when they'd start shooting the chest plate.

* * *

Pepper started coming around the house more often to organise things. Tony had never let any of the other PAs in the house before, but Maggie supposed that since he was taking on more responsibility with SI, and Maggie didn't need so many nannies these days, he needed more help.

Pepper worked in tandem with J.A.R.V.I.S., collecting mail, getting suits dry cleaned, ushering Tony's conquests away (Maggie pretended to know nothing about any of that), and handling Tony's personal and professional calendar. She was the architect behind a Stark Industries mixer held at the mansion itself, much to Maggie's consternation. Tony had parties at the house all the time, but this was a business event, and so Maggie had to be there. Normally she avoided Tony's parties or crept around the edges stealing drinks, so being front and center was alarming.

So she sat uncomfortably on her own couch in a dark blue business-y dress more like something Pepper would wear, watching people she barely knew laugh and traipse through her home. Tony was doing his best to devolve the event into a full-blown party, popping champagne bottles in the kitchen surrounded by a crowd of laughing men and women in suits. Pepper had already made him give a speech about _warm company relationships_ and _celebrating innovation_ and _thank you for your hard work_ , so now he was dedicating himself to enjoyment. Obie was at the other end of the room, shaking hands. Maggie had hoped she'd at least be able to stick by his side, but he was busy working even in the middle of a party.

A three piece band Pepper had hired played mild instrumental music in the foyer, cutting through the babble of conversation and clinking glasses.

Maggie was just wishing Rhodey had been able to come so she'd have someone to talk to, when one of the SI board members dropped down on the couch beside her.

"Hi Elliot," Maggie said with an attempt at a smile.

Elliot, one of the newer board members, had whitened teeth and always wore a midnight-blue suit. "Maggie, thanks for inviting us into your home! And what a nice home it is."

Maggie looked around. "You're welcome."

"So, can we expect to see you at the annual shareholder mixer this year?" he asked. "We've been talking about it and we'd love to have the younger Stark heir there this year, it'd be such a boost for the investors."

Maggie reached for her drink (lemonade, but she'd managed to slip some rum in it). "I don't really know if-"

"Oh you'll be fine," Elliot smiled at her, teeth too white and skin too tanned. "You're a big girl now, and I know the investors would love to pick your brains. Maybe once they've met you properly we could start bringing you in officially on some ground level projects. You can't keep those smarts in high school forever! And it's really just a party at the end of the day."

Maggie smiled uncertainly. She liked a party just as much as the next person, but she knew that Elliot wasn't talking about the fun kind of party with good music and good food. This was a business meeting disguised as a party, where everyone would be at least a decade older than her. Like tonight. She glanced away, trying to convey her disinterest, and spotted Pepper making the rounds with a Blackberry in one hand and a champagne glass in the other.

She glanced back down at her drink. "Well, I don't-"

"There's no need to be nervous," Elliot cut her off again, leaning a little closer. "You're the boss, after all. Maybe we could even get you to give us a speech, huh?"

"What's this about?" Maggie and Elliot both looked up to see Pepper standing behind the couch. Her voice was pleasant, but Maggie could see her eyes flicking cuttingly between them. Maggie folded her arms over her chest.

"The upcoming shareholder mixer," Elliot smiled easily at Pepper. "Just talking about how the young Ms Stark here is going to steal the show!"

"Oh I'm afraid that's not possible," Pepper said without hesitation, sounding disappointed. "I've just been working on Ms Stark's schedule for the next month and she has a school book club meeting on the same evening as the mixer."

Maggie did not let her eyes widen, though it was hard to resist. Pepper was _lying_.

Elliot laid a hand on the back of the couch, as if reaching out to Pepper. "Surely we can reschedule? This is a _family_ business, after all," he coaxed. "And it's about time-"

"Well we'll have to see what we can work out for next time," Pepper said tightly. "By the way, Mr Drummond, you're part of the military satellite project, right? I just heard Mr Wallace discussing the upcoming changes to the program, it sounded just fascinating-"

"Changes?" Elliot said abruptly, and jerked upright. He sped-walked away, head turning as he searched for Mr Wallace, without a single glance back.

Maggie half expected Pepper to sit beside her and raise an eyebrow as if to say _well, what do you say?_ But Pepper just watched Elliot walk off with a glint in her eye, then glanced down at her Blackberry and turned to go.

"Wait," Maggie said. Pepper stopped and looked down at her, her face softer than Maggie was used to seeing it. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Don't mention it," Pepper smiled.

"No, I just…" Maggie frowned. "I thought your job was to make us go to stuff."

A small furrow appeared in Pepper's brow. She looked at Maggie for a few moments, as if evaluating her, then strode around the couch and sat down beside her. "My job is to make _Tony_ go to stuff, because it's his job," she said softly. "Though every now and then I do give him an excuse to get out of meetings I know he'll really be no use in. But Maggie, you're fifteen. It's not your responsibility to go to anything you don't want to go to. Aside from school," she added with a smile.

Maggie thought about that, twisting her fingers in her dress. "Huh." She looked back up at Pepper. "Do you… want to come to the shooting range with me tomorrow? Rhodey's been teaching me."

Pepper smiled. "Sure. I'll take the day off." She stood, smoothed down her skirt, then arched an eyebrow at Maggie's drink. "Next time, you might consider using a _clear_ liquor."

As Pepper strode off again, Maggie eyed her faintly brown-tinted drink. _Hm._

* * *

The next day, Pepper and Maggie stood in adjacent booths at the indoor firing range, orange headphones covering their ears and dismantled pistols on the counter in front of them. Flourescent lights illuminated the close, soundproofed space. Rhodey sat on the bench behind them, texting. He'd been having lady troubles.

Maggie reached for her pistol and methodically slid the components together as Rhodey had shown her over the past few months. If she was honest with herself, she had partly invited Pepper as a way of asserting some kind of dominance. "So you start by-" she glanced sideways, only to see that Pepper had already assembled her weapon and was checking the magazine. Maggie stared. "You've done this before."

Pepper smiled as she raised her weapon, her legs apart and her arms straight. She flicked off the safety, aimed, and fired. Maggie blinked at the _crack_. Pepper's shot didn't hit the center of her target, but it did it hit. The paper shivered.

Pepper disarmed the gun, set it down, and faced Maggie. "I've never been to a firing range before, but I did grow up on a farm."

Maggie eyed her. Even at the shooting range Pepper was wearing heels. "You."

"Yes, me," Pepper arched her brow and turned back to the gun. "I know what I like and where I want to be, but…" she took aim and fired again. The silhouette man on the target paper gained a hole in his shoulder. "I don't forget what I've learned."

Maggie was still staring at Pepper, and after a few moments she realized she was smiling. Maggie wished _she_ knew where she wanted to be, but it was nice to see… she wasn't sure, really. She supposed she hadn't really known a lot of women, growing up.

Pepper caught her staring. "What?"

Maggie cocked her head. "You're not mad he calls you _Pepper_?"

Pepper smiled as she fired two more shots. "Do you know my real name?"

Maggie shook her head.

"Virginia," she said, and Maggie couldn't help the face she made. _Harold, and now Virginia? What is happening?_ Pepper laughed at Maggie's expression. "Exactly. I've been pretty desperate for a nickname ever since I was a little girl. Turns out it only took being pepper sprayed in front of my boss to get one. So to answer your question, no. I'm not mad."

"Good," Maggie said, casting a glance back at Rhodey. He had one eye on them to make sure they didn't hurt themselves, but wasn't really paying much attention. "Because… Tony doesn't do it to be mean, you know. He calls _me_ Maggot."

Pepper's smile softened. "I think I'm starting to figure that out." She eyed Maggie. "But you don't have to worry about explaining him to me, Maggie. I'll work him out in the end."

Maggie found herself struck dumb again. Rhodey genuinely enjoyed hanging out with Tony even when he was being irritating, and Happy didn't seem to get offended by anything and enjoyed Tony's streaks of wild fancy, but Pepper Potts... she looked as if the idea of figuring Tony out was a genuine pleasure.

"Well… good luck," Maggie said as she turned back to her own weapon. "And… thanks." She lifted her gun, checked her aim, and then fired twice. She set down the gun and realised she'd hit the target both times. A grin crossed her face.

"Good shot," Pepper told her.

Maggie swallowed her pride and turned to face Pepper again. She knew they weren't friends, not really, and Pepper was probably just here to make her job easier, but Maggie reckoned she was pretty good at figuring people out, and Pepper's smile just now was genuine. And that was enough for Maggie.

"You know," she sighed, "I bet Tony a hundred bucks that you wouldn't last eight months on the job." Pepper seemed more amused than annoyed by that. Maggie shrugged and turned back to reload. "I could stand to lose a hundred bucks."

She felt Pepper watching her for a few more moments, evaluating, before she too turned to reload. And then they both started firing.

Rhodey finally glanced up. "Doing a great job, ladies," he called.

* * *

The next day, Pepper marched into the mansion as if she owned it, spotted Tony at the kitchen island and set a paper file in front of him. Maggie, sitting by the couch with her computer on her lap, watched with a raised eyebrow.

Tony slid back in his chair. "Sorry, Pepper, I have to go help Maggie with her homework. Science, y'know?"

"No, I'm okay," Maggie called from the living area. Both Pepper and Tony paused and looked over at her. She smiled innocently at Tony. "I'm quite good at science, you know. I think I can handle it myself. You can stay and help Pepper."

Pepper's eyes glinted, and Tony stared at Maggie as if she'd shot him. "Traitor," he said.

"Yes," Maggie replied seriously. Then she stood up, holding her laptop, smiled at them both, and left the room.

Tony turned to Pepper. "You did this. Somehow."

Pepper shrugged. "I was a teenage girl once. I know what they need." _Someone to listen to them, and a way to let off some steam._ Pepper had picked Maggie as a fighter a mile off, so when she'd offered to go shooting together Pepper had jumped at the chance.

"I bet you had the mind of a middle aged accountant back then, too," Tony grumbled. But he sat down and fidgeted, and when Pepper set a pen beside his hand he took it.

"Where do you need me to sign," he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Pepper's nickname is, apparently, canon!
> 
> And you guys know I like my 'prequel' chapters, hopefully I'm not boring you to death! I promise we're getting to some ~spicy~ stuff soon :)


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another midweek update so I can avoid doing my coursework! I haven't replied to the comments from last chapter but I promise I will.
> 
> Once again, preemptively - don't underage drink, kids.

January 2002

"I called you in here, Maggie, because I want to talk to you about college."

Maggie stopped fidgeting in her seat and looked into her guidance counsellor's face. "College?"

Mrs Wilkins nodded and leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of her. "This shouldn't come as much of a surprise, but given all the extra credits you've been doing, you'll be eligible to graduate this year." She slid Maggie's academic file across the desk to her, and Maggie stared down at it. "Now you _can_ stay if you want, I know this is a lot given you're not yet sixteen, but if you did stay you'd really just be doing college credits anyway. And I think you'd have a lot more room to flourish at college."

Maggie opened and closed her mouth. She trusted Mrs Wilkins, she had helped guide her through her complex academic needs for years. "You really think I'm ready for college?"

Mrs Wilkins' mouth twitched. "Maggie, you've been working at a college-level academic ability ever since you enrolled in this school. I think the most we can claim to have offered you is a relatively normal high school experience." She spread her hands. "College is a place for young people to figure out what they want to make of themselves in life, and to explore the ideas that interest them. I think you're more than ready for that."

For a few moments they sat in silence, Maggie staring down at her file and Mrs Wilkins watching her. Finally, Mrs Wilkins slid across another, thicker file.

"This is the standard prospectus pack I give the seniors," she told Maggie. "Take it home, talk it over with your - your family, and let me know." Maggie wrapped her fingers around the folder. "Though whatever you decide, you should know that if you do want to apply you'd have to do it really soon."

"Okay," Maggie said quietly as she slid the folder off the desk and slipped it into her bag. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Maggie trudged through the door at home with her backpack and her mind full to bursting.

"Tony?" she called.

" _I'm afraid Mr Stark is currently in San Diego with Colonel Rhodes_ ," came J.A.R.V.I.S.'s patient voice.

Maggie closed her eyes and dropped her bag by the couch. "Right." Tony had mentioned the day trip last night. And she had negotiated for no more nannies a few months ago, so she was alone in the house.

" _Is everything alright_?"

"Fine," Maggie huffed, and tugged the heavy folder Mrs Wilkins had given her out of the bag and dropped it on the couch. "Just have some reading to do."

Hours later Maggie slumped sideways on the couch, surrounded by college prospectuses. They lay open around her, bright slogans and pictures of diverse groups of laughing students in front of sandstone buildings. She was in the middle of a section about Harvard's summer fellowships when she dropped the prospectus and flopped back, staring at the ceiling.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., do you think I should go to college this year?"

It sounded as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. " _Do you wish to stay in high school for another year_?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek and rolled her head to look out the darkened windows. "Everyone else my age is."

" _You are not like everyone else your age_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. reminded her gently.

"I just… it would be a big change. I'd probably have to move out of home. At sixteen."

" _It would be a big change. But I am afraid it's a decision that only you can make_."

"You're such a mom," she sighed. "And it's not legally my decision anyway, Tony's my legal guardian."

J.A.R.V.I.S. was silent for a few moments before replying: " _Mr Stark will most likely defer to your wishes_."

"I know, but… I want to hear what he thinks," she said softly.

" _He will be home in an hour, Ms Stark_."

"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S."

True to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s word, Maggie heard the low rumble of an engine from the driveway an hour later. She perked up from where she'd been dozing off on the Yale prospectus, and sat up just as Tony and Happy walked into the living area. Tony wore a t-shirt, slacks, a blazer and sunglasses even though it was nearly midnight, and wielded a whiskey carafe like it was a sceptre.

" _Welcome home, sir_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. greeted, brightening the lights.

"Evening J.A.R.V.I.S., and… Maggot!" he called, smiling over at her. "Love the bedhead, it suits you."

Happy set his hands on his hips and watched Tony as he swanned over to the door to the balcony. "He's not too bad," he confided in Maggie, loosening his tie. "He slept it off on the way back."

Maggie rolled her eyes and watched Tony step onto the balcony and take a deep lungful of the sea air. He swirled the whiskey inside the carafe and then carefully poured himself a glass.

"I'll be outside doing the rounds for an hour or so if you need me," Happy said to both of them, but mostly Maggie, and then turned to leave.

"Night, Happy," Maggie said without taking her eyes off Tony.

She gathered up the prospectuses in a jumbled pile, then carried it all across the living area and through to the balcony. She shivered in the cool sea breeze and squinted out at the dark ocean. The moon wasn't out tonight, so she could barely see past the edge of the balcony. Tony could have been sitting in a chair looking out into the vacuum of space.

She set her folders down on the glass top table and took a seat a few feet away from Tony. He leaned back in his seat with his glass held aloft; his collar was rumpled and there was sand on his trousers.

"Did you have fun?" Maggie asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"We did," Tony said, taking a long sip from his glass as he turned to smile at her. "Rhodey had an altercation with a seagull, but he's fine."

"Good, I…" she rested a hand on her stack of prospectuses. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Uh oh," he said, holding up a hand as if to ward her off. He didn't seem to have noticed the booklets in front of her.

She picked up the prospectus on top: Cornell. "I kind of have a decision to make, and-"

Tony's concern eased and he waved a hand. "Oh, go for it. Up to you." He took another sip of his drink.

Maggie felt the hard edge of irritation pressing at her chest. "I'd like to ask you about it, actually-"

"I'm not going to say no, Margarita, you know I'm happy for you to do what you want," he said over the rim of his tumbler. His gaze drifted out to sea.

"I want advice, though-"

"I don't know if you've noticed," he half laughed as he went to take another sip, "but I'm not very good at that."

Maggie slammed down the Cornell prospectus, making the whole table rattle, and launched forward at Tony. He yelped and tried to flinch away, but she seized the whiskey glass from his hand. She brought it to her mouth and tipped back the contents, barely wincing at the burn thanks to her rage.

Tony stared at her. When she then reached for the half full carafe of whiskey he reached out and said "No-" but she slapped his hand away, grabbed it, and began downing its contents too. It was disgusting and Maggie had never tried whiskey before, but her anger fueled her until she'd swallowed the last drop, glaring at Tony the whole while.

She pulled the carafe away from her mouth with a grimace.

Tony blinked at her. "You're fifteen," he said dumbly.

Maggie sat down again, blinking at the headrush. "Yeah, and I probably just gave myself alcohol poisoning," she said. "So are you going to listen to me?"

His eyes widened with horror. "Yeah."

"Okay." She drew in a fortifying breath, swallowing, and slid the stack of prospectuses across the table toward Tony. She was aware she had a time limit. "My guidance counsellor told me today that she thinks I should apply for colleges this year." His eyes widened further. "They think they've taught me everything they can. So one, I'm not sure if I should go, and two, I have _no clue_ where to go." She coughed, wincing at the burn in her throat.

"College," Tony said, exhaling. His hand hovered outstretched to Maggie as if she was about to fall apart, but suddenly he eyed her as if seeing her for the first time.

Maggie nodded, then opened her mouth to release a horrendous belch. She almost gagged on the renewed burn of whiskey. Tony winced. "And I know you've always told me to take my time, but I know you went to college younger than me, and… what do you think?"

He sighed, glanced at the empty carafe, then leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right, I didn't want you to… rush. Because I was rushed, and… to be honest, Maggie, I missed out on being a kid. But I realise that you might be chafing at the bit for more of a challenge, and honestly…" he smiled at her. "You'd do great at college."

Maggie returned the smile. Her stomach had started churning like the ocean in a hurricane, but she felt very soft all of a sudden. "You think so? I'm not too… young?"

"Oh you are absolutely too young," Tony added. "I'm going to make sure you have a security team taking you to every class, and absolutely no parties-" Maggie arched an eyebrow at him, and he had the grace to look guilty. "I'm just saying, I don't want you to get hurt. But you're… you've been grown up since you were little. I guess I'm just coming around to that fact."

"Thank you," Maggie said. She leaned forward to wrap her arms around Tony, startling him. After a moment he hugged her back. Maggie's stomach gurgled ominously. "Where should I go?"

"I mean, I just… I just knew I was going to MIT," he said, as if it were obvious. "But you're not sure?"

"I don't know." Her skin abruptly felt flaming hot, and her vision went… swirly. She frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. "I mean, yes MIT has all the things I'm interested in, but the guidance counsellor made it seem like this is a decision I have to think really carefully about. And I _am_ interested in other stuff besides engineering."

"Blasphemy," Tony said lightly. He pulled back and eyed her. "But how about we figure the details out later, because right now I think the only place you should be going is the bathroom."

She closed her eyes and nodded resignedly. "Yeah, I'm about to throw up in the ocean."

"Not off my balcony you're not!" he exclaimed, and bundled her up out of her chair and inside. Maggie groaned as her stomach lurched at the movement, and tripped over her own prosthetic. Tony kept her upright. He half-carried her into the nearest bathroom, which had a lovely view down to the beach, and then sat her down by the toilet. "Let me introduce you to your best friend for the evening."

He found a glass in the cabinet and poured a glass of water. "Here," he murmured, offering it to her, and then slid down to sit beside her on the tile floor. He smoothed her hair off her sweaty forehead. "Have you got a… hair thingy, for all this?" She didn't nod - she knew how that would make her feel now - but reached into her pocket and carefully tied her hair back. Tony watched with a frown, then looked into her woozy eyes. "Sorry I wasn't listening, earlier. I won't let it happen again."

"Mmhm," Maggie smiled weakly, trying to concentrate on overcoming the sudden awful roiling in her stomach. Her head was _spinning_ \- she didn't know that actually happened. She took gulps from the water glass, trying to wash away the taste of the horrible stuff.

"Next time," he added, "maybe make a point with less expensive alcohol. That Glenfiddich you just _shotgunned_ was twice your age."

She clutched her stomach and winced. "It's angry with me."

Tony chuckled under his breath. "And I'm…" he went quiet for a few moments, searching for the words. "I'm really proud of you, Maggie. For making this decision. I was over the moon to go to college and get away from home, but I know it might be… harder. For you." His face made a complicated expression. "I'm going to miss you."

Maggie met his eyes, smiling, and then lurched away to throw up in the toilet.

" _Ack_ ," she spluttered when she had time to breathe.

Tony rubbed her back. "Better out than in," he murmured, and she could hear him laughing, but she didn't mind.

Tony spent the next few hours watching over Maggie as she hunched over the toilet bowl. He wasn't entirely sober himself but he was very attentive, plying her with cold damp cloths, water, and regularly checking her vitals. He then tucked her into bed, smoothing her covers over her and putting a trash can and a glass of water by her head.

The next morning when Maggie woke groaning and green-faced, he took her through his 'tried and true' hangover cure routine: water, straight coffee, antacid, and then a scalding shower followed by a light broth with a slice of plain white bread.

When she moaned _I'm never drinking again_ , he just laughed at her.

* * *

From then on Tony didn't stop drinking, but he did stop drinking at home, and avoided subjecting Maggie to his drunkenness. She still saw evidence of it in the papers, but he kept it out of her life.

And he made a point of listening to her whenever she wanted to talk.

Maggie started writing college applications.

* * *

March, 2002

The colleges Maggie had applied to sent back letters with… expected results. Overwhelmed by the sudden abundance of choice, she called Rhodey.

"Hi, can I come visit the base soon?"

"Tony driving you nuts? Sure, I'll come pick you up this weekend."

"Can I drive?"

"Ugh."

Maggie had gotten her learners permit in December, which had come as a shock to Tony. She'd handed him the permit application to sign and he'd frowned at her. _But you already know how to drive_ , he'd told her. She'd learned from him, Rhodey, and even Pepper once or twice, mostly on the Stark Industries driving range which was normally used for vehicles like tanks.

_Yes_ , Maggie had replied, _but now I have to prove it._

So come the weekend, a uniformed Rhodey arrived in his dark grey sedan and reluctantly handed over the keys. They set off down the highway, heading inland. Rhodey didn't ask her about colleges on the drive, which she felt thankful for.

Though he did keep telling her to slow down.

"I'm going the speed limit," she protested as she hit the freeway outside Santa Clarita. It was a warm day, the sun beating down on the tarmac and glinting on the river to the right of the road. Maggie adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. "Tony says I drive like a grandma."

"Evel Knievel's grandma, maybe," Rhodey winced, gripping the handle over his window.

Maggie slowed down to a few miles per hour below the limit just to make him feel better. "Honestly, Rhodey, I can fly _jets_. Your Volkswagen doesn't scare me."

"You can't fly jets yet," he reminded her. "Flying them in simulations without crashing is not the same thing."

"Well if you'd just _let_ me-"

"I've broken enough rules at the base for you without putting the taxpayer's jets in your hands."

"Well I technically _have_ flown a jet, since the SI pilot let me fly Tony's private jet when we went to the MIT open day."

Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose as she overtook another car. "I'm going to jail or hell because of you two one day, I swear."

Maggie pressed down on the accelerator with her prosthetic foot and Rhodey went back to grabbing his handle. "So what are you going to let me fly today?" she asked eagerly.

He sighed. "Well I was thinking of showing you around the traffic control tower, but then… We've got one of the Lockheed transport craft in for some minor maintenance, the engineers _might_ let you _sit in_ for a test flight."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Can I look at the engines too? If it's the C-130, then I haven't seen the J model engines yet."

He sighed again. "I suspect that whatever you ask for, you'll get."

"You make me sound spoiled," Maggie frowned, then shook her head. "No, never mind. Rich girl, lives in a Malibu mansion, I know."

Rhodey laughed at her. "Of all the things I'd call you, Maggie, it may surprise you to hear that _spoiled_ isn't one of them."

Maggie smiled and turned to look at him, but then he full-body-flinched and shouted: " _Eyes on the road_!"

Laughing, she obliged.

Rhodey watched Maggie drive for a few moments. She'd grown up so much in the past few years, shooting up like a beanstalk, her face growing longer, more adult. Her dark eyes kept close watch on the road, her hands sure on the wheel as the sunlight slanted in over her face. She had Tony's dark hair too, though hers had grown long and slightly curly, like Rhodey recalled from younger photos of her mom. Maggie had been experimenting with her style, too, and had an affinity for jeans and boots. She'd always been startlingly grown up for her age, ever since he'd first spoken to her as a four year old, and she was rapidly growing to match her sharp mind. And yet Rhodey still felt startled to look at her and see an almost-adult. It felt easy to get so wrapped up in Tony and his antics, and forget that Maggie was growing into her own person. She still felt far too young for college, though Rhodey had met Tony at MIT when Tony was only fourteen.

Maggie's eyes flickered over to him and a wry smile quirked her mouth. "I think I'm going to try to get my motorcycle license on my birthday as well."

Rhodey sank low into his seat with a groan.

* * *

At the base Maggie ran an envious eye over the F-22s parked outside the hangar, and craned her neck to get a glimpse of the new B-2 Spirit bomber glinting in the sun a few hundred yards away.

"Don't even think about it," Rhodey murmured, then nodded politely at a troop of junior airmen who jogged past, saluting.

He led her inside and over to the familiar engineering bay, but Maggie paused just outside. "I've gotta head to the bathroom, meet you in there?" Rhodey waved her off.

Maggie strode at an even pace in the direction of the bathrooms, but when Rhodey was out of sight she doubled back, jogged up the stairs, and headed for the main office space. Most people she passed didn't give her a second glance - some nodded or said their hellos. Plenty of the other officers brought their kids around the base from time to time, and most of the staff who'd been here long enough knew Maggie's face. She knew her way around the bustling office complex, and soon she'd found the door she'd been looking for. She rapped her knuckles on the wood.

"Come in!"

Maggie glanced around - there were a few admin staff at the end of the hall in their fatigues, but they wouldn't dob her in to Rhodey. She drew in a steadying breath, then pushed the door open.

Chief Master Sergeant Charlie Larson looked up from his computer screen. "Ms Stark! I didn't know you were gracing us with your presence today."

"Rhodey let me drive," Maggie smiled as she closed the door behind her. "Hey, Charlie, you're in charge of recruitment, right?"

He frowned. "Yes, why?" He wore his formal blue dress uniform today - must have a boss around at the base today - which made Maggie fidget.

She strode forward and sat in the low chair opposite his desk. "Well, I'm going to college this year-"

"Oh, congratulations," he smiled. "Big step!"

"Yes, and I'll be eighteen in two years, and I was thinking about…" she swallowed, and stared at the silver badge on his lapel. "I was thinking I might enlist, you know. In the Air Force pilot program. I could tailor my degree to make sure I have the best shot, and then I know I'd have to start with Initial Flight Training in Colorado…" she trailed off as she glanced up to Charlie's expression. His face had fallen.

He drew in a breath, linking his fingers together and clearly thinking hard as he eyed her. "Maggie," he began. "I… don't think that would work."

She gripped the armrests of her chair. "Why?"

"No military branch could ethically recruit you, I'm afraid," he said gently. "You're a _Stark_ , the heir to the Armed Forces' biggest private contracting company. It's too big a conflict of interest. I know you wouldn't, but you'd be in a position to break confidentiality agreements on each side." He frowned at the look on her face. "You'll still be able to work _with_ us of course, we'd welcome that, but it would have to be on the weapons manufacturing side of things."

Maggie felt, suddenly, very small. "What if I sign NDAs? Or… maybe we could work something out with SI so I've got less responsibility-"

"Maggie," he cut in gently. "I didn't want to say this, but… that's not the only reason. There's your injuries, too. You'd be ineligible for the pilot program based on those alone."

"My injuries?"

He glanced down at her right leg, and she followed his gaze. The metal joint peeked out below the cuff of her jeans, above her boot.

She looked back up and stared at him. "You don't fly planes with your _legs_."

He shot her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Maggie."

But she still stared. "Charlie, I'm a _good pilot._ You know that, you've seen me on the flight simulator!"

"I know," he said. "And I really am sorry. There's always commercial pilot programs..."

Maggie stood up shakily, letting out a breath. This had always been a private hope of hers, but speaking it aloud finally had made it seem real, attainable. But now…

She shook her head and walked out the door without saying goodbye.

She barely noticed the C-130J engines when the engineers showed them off. They let her and Rhodey take it up, but Rhodey did the flying. Maggie didn't bother asking to take over the controls.

* * *

When Maggie got home, Tony stood in the kitchen holding her acceptance letters. He glanced up at her tired, slightly sunburned face, and raised an eyebrow. "You weren't going to tell me about these?"

She shrugged as she strode into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. She felt conscious of her prosthetic leg at every step. "Just considering my options, I guess."

He frowned. "Why do you look like that? Did Rhodey yell at you?"

"No. I'm fine," she sighed, and tried to brush off her gloomy mood.

"So?" he asked, waving the letters. "Who's the lucky bit of paper?"

She eyed the array of papers in his hand, considering. Each one its own branch into the future, each one a whole host of different people and experiences. Each one a different choice. And yet… _who am I kidding?_

No matter where she went to college, her life _afterwards_ would still look the same. Charlie had practically said it, hadn't he? There's only one job for a Stark.

Maggie drew in a breath, and finally reached out to pluck the letter with the red and grey logo out of Tony's hand.

_Dear Margaret,  
On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure…_

Tony's eyebrows lifted. "Really? You're sure? I'm not forcing you-"

She smiled and shook her head. "I was thinking about it at the base. I really do want this."

Tony held up his hand and she high-fived it, smiling. "Congratulations, Magnolia! You're going to MIT!" He scooped her up in a hug, spinning her, and she laughed. "Don't believe anything they tell you about me." He set her down. "And never use the Stark Library, Dad might've funded it but it's rubbish, really. And the weather's shit, so we'll need to get you a winter coat. _And_ I don't know about you living in a dorm with all those nerdy degenerates, I might look into getting you an apartment…"

Maggie listened to Tony ramble as he tugged at his hair and paced uselessly around the kitchen, and took a deep breath. She realized that this house - this mansion - had been somewhat of a bubble for her. Within that bubble she had been allowed a childhood, which she acknowledged was rare and precious for someone in her position. But now…

_Here I come, world._

Maggie Stark smiled.

* * *

August, 2002

Maggie didn't move to college with much. Just a suitcase of clothes, a few prosthetic legs, and some books.

They'd flown over on the private jet, but Tony dropped Maggie at MIT in a nondescript dark sedan, far different from the ostentatious sportscar he would have preferred to drive.

Maggie watched him now scowling around at the inside of her tiny dorm room: nothing but a single bed, bookshelf, desk, and cupboard, with a window looking out at another block of dorms. The room smelled like cleaning products and wooden furniture. Maggie didn't have a roommate, since she was a year young, but Tony still seemed displeased that she hadn't taken his offer to rent her her own apartment in Cambridge. This room was certainly a far cry from the houses of steel and glass that Maggie had grown up in.

Tony squeezed past where Maggie was unpacking her suitcase to poke at the door lock again, glowering. She smiled as she watched him.

"I'm going to be okay," she told him.

He glanced over his shoulder to look at her. "I know." He sounded almost annoyed, and Maggie felt glad that she'd already reached out to Pepper and Rhodey, who had promised to keep Tony busy when he got back.

She cocked her head. "We've been apart before, when you went on business trips. And I know how to look after myself."

Tony looked somehow even unhappier. "I know."

Maggie smiled, kicked her suitcase closed, then squeezed between the bed and the desk to where Tony stood by her door. He stood stiff in his suit, but when she wrapped her arms around him he seemed to thaw a little.

"Whatever happens, it'll be okay," she told him. "You'll be okay."

Tony let out a long breath and then squeezed her. "Aren't I meant to be the one comforting you?"

She patted his back for a while, wrinkling her nose at his cologne, then sighed and pulled away. "Now get out."

He laughed. "Fine," he said, straightening his sleeves. "But you've got my number, and J.A.R.V.I.S. is on speed dial, and the SI branch in Boston can send out security if you need it-"

" _Out_ ," she repeated, smiling, and finally Tony opened the door to leave.

But then he hesitated. "Hey, Mags," he said, in a lower tone. He opened and closed his mouth.

Leaning against the wall, Maggie smiled. "I know."

He smiled back, despite the hints of pain still in his expression.

Then Maggie flung her hand at him. "Out!"

Tony left.

When the door clicked shut again, Maggie stood alone in her room for a few moments. She walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, then drew in a deep breath. She held it for a few moments before letting it out again.

She had practically been raising herself for a few years now, but this… felt big.

Minutes later, there was a knock at the door and a young boy with floppy hair and glasses peeked in.

"Hey, you're the other kid, right?"

Still sitting on her plain, white-sheeted bed, Maggie stared. "Excuse me?"

"There's supposed to be two of us in the dorm," the boy said. Only his head stuck through the crack in the door. "I'm Hiroki, I turn sixteen next month."

"Oh." Maggie smiled. "I turned sixteen two months ago. I'm Maggie." She got up to go shake his hand.

Hiroki grinned as he propped the door open wider to shake her hand. "Oh, I know. I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to not being the odd one out any more. MIT is the place to be, I tell you."

She nodded. She thought she probably knew what Hiroki meant by being the _odd one out._ "Right. We've got, um, the block meeting soon, right? Want to go together?"

Hiroki beamed. "Let's do it!"

Heart pounding, Maggie closed her dorm room door behind her, locked it, and then followed her new friend into the next step of her new life.

* * *

Hiroki was right: Maggie still got stared at here (her enrolment at MIT _had_ been in the newspapers, after all), and most people knew her name before she gave it, but she wasn't the odd one out any more.

For starters, she and Hiroki weren't the only young ones; a few other gifted kids who'd skipped a year of school had also enrolled this year, and besides, they were only a year younger than everyone else anyway. They got babied a bit, _especially_ by their dorm mates, but for the most part they were fresh faced kids like the rest of the first years.

Secondly, MIT felt like an equal playing field. Sure, the freshmen were untested, but Maggie recognised a drive and a spark in them that she had thought was rare. They had an energy about them that she'd only seen before in the engineers and tech wizards at Stark Industries. And once the older students and teachers returned to the college and started talking about their specialties and interests… Maggie didn't feel out of her depth. She could ask questions and get _answers_ , instead of alarmed stares.

In her third week, Maggie trudged back to her dorm room after class with a backpack full of books, and collapsed on her bed to call Tony.

"Hey, kid," he greeted eagerly after picking up on the second ring.

"Hey," she said, then yawned. "Just got back from a tutorial. This is… _hard_."

His laugh over the phone made her smile. "Right?" she could hear him grinning down the line. "You're not in high school any more, Dorothy. Study up."

* * *

Maggie took his advice to heart. Whereas before she'd been able to get away with paying half attention in high school, now she really knuckled down in her classes. And as she got comfortable with the rhythm of it all, she realized she wanted to do _everything._ She signed up for undergraduate research projects, read through all the textbooks for her classes this semester and the next, booked lab time, filled up her professor's office hours with hundreds of questions, and tried to join the gymnastics team (she was again rejected, but cloned a gym pass so she could sneak in after hours to practice what she'd learned with Ms Sato).

As a result of her full workload Maggie didn't have a lot of time for partying. But she was no hermit: most of her peers still thought she was too young to drink, but she, Hiroki, and some of the other 'babies' figured out how to sneak into frat and sorority parties very quickly.

Maggie also took on some extra humanities classes, almost doubling her course load, and when they wouldn't let her add computer science to her Mechanical Engineering degree she started sneaking into the computer science lectures anyway. She eventually figured out how to hack into their student portal so she could see the homework and readings. She also attended all the guest lectures she could. One of her favourites was one on Nuclear Physics by a Dr Banner from Culver University, though he veered off topic into biochemistry at the end. Inspired, Maggie contrived a way to approach him at the end of the lecture and shake his hand.

"Thanks so much for coming, Dr Banner," she beamed, trying to seem older than her sixteen years. "This was really fascinating, do you think you'd come back to lecture again? Maybe more about biochemistry?"

He smiled awkwardly at her as he shook her hand. "Oh, uh… thank you. Maybe. We'll see."

He either didn't know who she was or didn't give two shits, and Maggie loved him for it.

* * *

Before the end of her first semester, Maggie got in trouble with the course convenor.

"I called you in to discuss your course load," Mr Halworth told her just two minutes after inviting her into his office. He gestured at the computer screen listing her enrolled classes, and Maggie was reminded of her high school guidance counsellor. "At this rate you'll be studying for _years_ , Miss Stark."

"Ms," she corrected.

"I'm sorry?"

"Miss means single, Mrs means married, _Ms_ means none of your business," she explained. She hadn't gone by _Miss_ since she was nine.

Mr Halworth eyed her for a moment, then waved a hand. "Regardless, _Ms_ Stark, you will have to narrow down your scope of study. You signed up for a major in Mechanical Engineering, and you're taking the right classes, but all this is… a mess for your diploma. You need to choose."

Maggie cocked my head. "Is my GPA not good enough?"

He frowned at her. "Your final results for the term haven't been finalised, but you know that's not the problem. I can't authorise a student taking this many classes, it's unsustainable. When you get to the point of having to build projects-"

"I'm already building projects!" she protested, pointing at the screen. "In this class, Professor Becker is letting me collaborate with the postgrads on a high speed rail engine design since I built one like it a few years ago."

Halworth stared at her for a moment. Then he reached up to press his fingers into his temples. "I understand you come with your own unique… special circumstances, Ms Stark," he eventually sighed. "I wasn't here when your brother came through the school. Perhaps I'd better reach out to my predecessor for some advice." Maggie just eyed him. "But in the meantime, you will have to settle on a major."

Maggie chewed the inside of her lip as she ran an eye over the screen with all her classes. After a minute or two she glanced back. "Can I double major?"

Halworth did not look as annoyed as she'd expected. Merely resigned. "Yes. You'll have to petition the school, but I suspect that won't be a problem. And…" he rubbed his chin. "If you really think you can handle this course load, then you'll probably graduate early. But you'll have to prove to me that you can handle it. Maybe then we can talk about… making your diploma a little more flexible."

Maggie beamed. "You've got a deal, Mr Halworth." She stuck out her hand.

He took it with another sigh. "Seems we do. Ms Stark."

* * *

It took a few months for Maggie and Mr Halworth to come to an agreement. She finally chose a double major in Mechanical Engineering, and Aeronautics & Astronautics, and Halworth decided to put her extra credits on her diploma as an addendum, which by the end amounted to almost three separate minors, plus a handful of research projects.

Maggie suspected she irritated Mr Halworth more than he would like, but he did start talking about allowing more flexible degree options for future students, so she supposed he didn't wholly dislike their interactions.

* * *

On Maggie's first trip back home (just a couple of months after moving out - Tony had sent the jet without giving a reason, but she could read between the lines) she visited the Edwards Air Force base again with Rhodey. He took her up in one of the F-15s as an early Christmas gift, and Maggie spent most of the flight with her helmet pressed against the cockpit glass, her vision blurry with tears. She'd _missed_ this.

When Maggie got back to college she did some research, made a few calls, and then drove the little Volkswagen she'd bought herself for her birthday (she'd also bought herself a motorcycle, but Tony had forbidden her from bringing it to MIT with her) out to a flight school near Bedford. The guy at the desk gave her a funny look, as she supposed he didn't get many sixteen year old girls showing up by themselves, but he gave her all the forms to fill out.

From that point, Maggie drove up every available Saturday she had. She spent three weeks in training before her instructors realised she could pass every test, and they set to work on logging as many flying hours as they could so Maggie could get her pilot's license when she turned seventeen.

Maggie loved flight school. She loved her sunburnt, casually-dressed instructors with their wild stories about their years of commercial flying, the cramped office where they all sat sipping coffee out of paper cups after a good flight, and most of all she loved the _flying;_ the thrum of a plane engine softly juddering her bones, the ground laid out miles below. The quiet. It was different flying on the east coast: instead of the vibrant deserts and blazing seas of California she could look down over misty forests and turbulent waters.

She'd never fly with the Air Force, but the knowledge that she could fly for herself, for _fun_ , was a gift.

* * *

December 16, 2002

Maggie woke up just before dawn to a bitten-off scream.

For a moment she lay frozen, curled up in a ball in her single bed with her hands clenched on her pillow and her eyes wide and unseeing. Sweat rolled off her forehead onto her already soaked pillow.

Slowly, shakily, she unclenched her fingers from her creased pillow. She fought to slow her racing breaths, and pushed herself to a sitting position in her bed. She pushed back the covers to stare at the stump below her knee.

_It's been eleven years._

For a moment, the sensations from her dream flared behind her eyes:

Dad's scarlet, mangled face, propped against the steering wheel.

The cut-off choking sounds of mom's breaths.

Fire flickering behind her eyes.

A glint of silver.

Maggie shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the headache that stabbed its way through her mind. "No," she whispered.

It had been so long since she thought about that night. She'd done her best not to think about it for over ten years, because there was no way she could be _that_ Maggie and _this_ Maggie at the same time. She couldn't be that little girl who crawled burned and broken along the road _and_ be the young woman who pestered her professors and called her brother on the weekend and practiced gymnastics. She couldn't reconcile those two identities.

Maggie shivered at the feeling of sweat cooling on her skin, and launched out of bed. A hot shower would scour away the memories.

* * *

But a month later, the dream invaded her sleeping mind once more. This time it was less about what she could see and hear, but what she _felt_ : the bruising band of the seatbelt digging into her chest. Gravel pressing against the heels of her hands. Numbness tingling at her spine. A cold, unyielding grip-

She woke utterly silently this time, her mouth open in a silent scream and her hands flailing, fighting off… nothing.

This time she curled in a tighter ball, pulling her sheets over her head like a little girl hiding. _He's not real._ The moment she had the thought, a chill fell over her. She'd not had a concrete thought about _him_ for years. He'd never left her, she realized: the firelight glinting off his metal arm and the deadness of his eyes had been lodged somewhere in the back of her mind, or deep in her chest, haunting her subconscious. And deeper than that: the mission.

Maggie slowly peeled the sheets back from her head, blinking in the pre-dawn greyness. _My mission._ She didn't know what it was, what it meant, but she realized it _pulled_ at her, deeper than desire or identity.

Her stomach roiled and Maggie stumbled out of bed, fumbling for her prosthetic leg, desperate to make it to the bathroom before her stomach upended itself. But by the time she'd hobbled to the bathroom all she could do was grip the sides of the sink and stare at herself in the mirror, arms shaking, seeing a terrified and furious little girl.

_Not real_.

* * *

Maggie went home for Christmas break but the dreams followed her. She only had them every month or so, but they hit with sickening and frightening reality. They seemed to grow more vivid each time, as if she were getting _closer_ to that night instead of further away.

As the end of her first year approached Maggie finally called her occasional therapist and told her about the dreams. But not about the man.

Because the man couldn't be real. Everyone had told her so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll get to see more of Maggie's College Shenanigans... can't wait to show you guys!


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible that this is a recurring warning, but don't underage drink!

2003

Maggie turned seventeen back home in Malibu in her summer break, which she spent in the workshop with Tony customising the three cars he had bought while she was away, and careening down the Pacific Coast Highway on her motorcycle.

When she got back to MIT, she drove up to her flight school and her brand new Private Pilot's license was waiting for her. She couldn't legally fly for hire yet, but she didn't care about getting paid so she started flying some odd jobs for the community of pilots at the flight school: flying planes to different airfields as demand required, flying short charter flights, and even instructing from time to time. She didn't tell Tony or Rhodey.

* * *

This was the year that Maggie figured out how to fit partying into her schedule. Now she was as old as the other freshmen, everyone stopped babying her. Maggie threw herself into MIT's party scene with wholehearted delight, and made herself a pretty convincing fake ID to sneak into the Cambridge bars. Occasionally a bouncer would realise that she was Margaret Stark, and remember that Margaret Stark was probably not 21, but Maggie had learned that a bit of makeup and a change of her hairstyle was often enough to make her unrecognizable.

She wasn't as bad as Tony had been in MIT (his shenanigans were legendary at the college), but she was no wallflower. She partied, and made mistakes, and even got busted for underage drinking once. It was bad luck really, since she'd gotten cornered while running from a house party. She learned to plan her escape routes beforehand.

* * *

November, 2003  
Manhattan

Tony awoke at two in the morning in his New York hotel room to an insistent beep on his phone. He'd travelled down for a 'Pioneers in Weapons Technology' conference that Pepper had bullied him into attending. When the phone reached a truly annoying pitch he cracked an eye open.

"What?"

The beeping cut out and J.A.R.V.I.S.'s smooth voice took over. " _Sir, Ms Stark has just been arrested by the Cambridge Police Department._ "

Both eyes cracked open. "Uh, why?"

" _The prosecutor has decided to charge her with assault_."

"O… kay," Tony mumbled, and swung his legs out of bed. "Can you, um - Happy? The car?"

" _You wish to drive to Massacheussets, sir_?"

"My sister's in jail, J.A.R.V.I.S."

" _Very well, sir_."

Three and a half hours later (Happy had really stepped on it), Tony stood in the Cambridge Police Department front lobby with a paper cup of coffee in his hand and bags under his eyes. He checked his watch, then the door to the back. There were only two sleepy officers manning the front desk.

Finally, the door he'd been staring at swung open to reveal Maggie, in a rumpled denim skirt and a shiny top, with eyeliner drawn around her eyes and her hair all mussed up. The officer beside her gestured at the lobby door almost sarcastically, then shut the door behind her.

Maggie turned, spotted Tony, and instantly looked sheepish.

"Hey," Tony said, then jerked his head. "Let's get out of here."

They walked wordlessly out of the police department and both winced at the pale dawn light outside. Maggie wore heels which clicked with every step she took, and wrapped her arms around herself in the chill. Tony wished he'd brought a jacket.

"Thanks for bailing me out," Maggie said at the same time as Tony said: "What happened?"

"Sorry," Maggie winced. Her arms tightened around herself and she sniffed. She smelled like booze. "Really, I mean… this is a mess."

Tony shook his head. "I mean, I can hardly talk. So what happened?"

She swallowed and looked down. "I… I was in a club."

"Shocker. The police told me that."

"And I was with my friends, they're not, um, old enough either, but then I was coming back from the bathroom and I saw this guy" - a shadow crossed her face - "put something in my friend Priya's drink while she was fixing her shoe."

There was a long silence, filled only by her noisy heels as they walked down the pavement to where Happy had parked the car. Their breaths came as puffs of condensation.

"And?" Tony prompted.

"And I punched him," Maggie said, her eyes fixed downward.

He eyed her. "Did he fight back? Are you okay?"

Her mouth twitched. "Knocked his lights out."

Tony made a face and glanced back at the Police Department. "So did you tell _them_ that?"

"Yes."

"And they still charged you?"

She shrugged, but seemed less stiff. "It's still a crime to punch people, apparently."

His sharp, annoyed breath came out as another burst of condensation. "Did they arrest the guy?"

"No," she bit out.

Tony drew in a long breath. "Is your friend okay?"

"Yeah, the others got her out of there." Maggie reached up to push back her tangled hair, and he eyed her fist.

"Did you hurt your hand?"

"Nah, Happy taught me how to punch people."

"Of course he did." They'd reached the car, and Tony paused for a moment on the pavement. He eyed his sister: taller than him, especially in her heels, her skin prickled with goosebumps from the cold dawn air and her eyes tired and surrounded by black smudges. Finally, finally, she met his gaze. He grinned at her. "Let's go get some food."

* * *

The assault charge did end up going on Maggie's record, but since she was still technically a juvenile it'd get sealed anyway. The prosecutor had heard the name Stark and wanted to make a point.

Tony framed the arrest report and put it up in the mansion. Pepper didn't like it, she was worried he was making fun of Maggie, but when Maggie came home for Christmas and grinned at the sight of it, Pepper sighed and decided it was there to stay.

* * *

2004

For some months, Maggie and Hiroki had been discussing the idea of firsts _._ They'd been each other's first friend at college after all, and though they'd both found other friends and had gone down different academic paths (Hiroki was set to become a Chemical Engineer), they each appreciated the other's straightforwardness, familiarity, and brilliance.

So after some discussion, and agreeing on some ground rules, they became each other's _first._ As good friends, they slept together in Maggie's dorm room out of trust and mutual curiosity. Hiroki was sweet, if inexperienced, and Maggie the same, but they each knew how to listen to each other and that turned out some excellent results. They stood together in the shower afterwards, discussing it, and Maggie thought _yes, I like this very much_.

Thus began a very determined period of experimentation for Maggie, which she approached with the same enthusiasm and drive as any of her research projects. She figured out what she liked, and who she liked. She was hardly the playboy that her brother was, though she was no nun. She didn't like one night stands so much, since she preferred to know the person and have some measure of their character. But she wouldn't really call it dating. She asked out fellow students in lectures, tried out pickup lines at her extracurriculars, and worked her way through frat houses and sororities to her heart's content.

Once she'd figured sex out she tried her hand at romance, but nothing stuck. Her longest relationship, with a girl in her Bioengineering class, lasted only four months. She'd tried, but she didn't have a lot in common with most people. And she couldn't stand the vulnerability of romance. She had so many parts of her mind and her heart she didn't like to visit.

But Maggie was great at making friends. She and Hiroki never slept with each other again, as he met a lovely girl in his swimming team, but they stayed fast friends. And Maggie had formed friendships across the college and beyond, never deep, but _friendly_. She'd learned long ago how to weed out the fame seekers from those who actually wanted to know her.

Maggie watched her friends grow close, forming couples and then breaking up and then finding someone new, with curiosity and some confusion. She didn't understand how someone could bind themselves to another so completely, tell them all their secrets and open every part of themselves. Maggie enjoyed her freedom, and her secrets, too much.

But dating - if that's what you wanted to call it - was fun.

* * *

February, 2004

"Sir, you have an incoming call from Ms Stark." J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice roused Tony from sleep with a flinch.

He smacked his bedside table, winced, then felt around for his phone. The screen was lit up and he blurrily noticed the time: 1:14 AM.

He gave up on trying to navigate the blinding screen. "J.A.R.V.I.S., accept the call." The ringtone finally stopped, and Tony brought the phone to his ear.

"Maggie, what is it? What's wrong?"

" _HEY_ ," she shouted down the line, and he winced away from the receiver.

"Hey," he said in a more reasonable tone. "You wouldn't be drinking again, would you?"

" _No_ , that's _illegal_ ," she said. He couldn't hear music, so he supposed she'd left whatever party she'd been at. He audibly heard her swallow. "Hey." Her voice had gone soft.

Tony scrambled to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. "What's up, Maggot?"

"I'm bisexual." There was no fear or worry in her soft voice. It sounded as if she was just… informing him. After a moment she added: "Which means I like boys _and-_ "

"I know what it means," he chuckled, still coming down from his initial panic. "Thanks for telling me. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not super comfortable with the labelling thing, like who's to say I'm not _pansexual_?" she wondered aloud. "But it's as good a word as any. And I've known for a while now but I realized I forgot to tell you, just now, so I thought I'd tell you. People tell their families these things."

Tony smiled. "Thank you, Mags." He thought about it. "So does this mean… is there anyone…?"

"Oh, no," she said offhandedly. "Well there was this girl Alicia, but not anymore. What time is it there?" she asked, as if she'd just realized.

"One in the morning," he yawned. "Which means it's _three am_ over there."

"Are you sleeping?"

"No." _Not anymore._

"Oh. You should go to sleep."

"So should you."

"I think I will now. Sorry I forgot to tell you."

"That's okay. Love you, kid." He rubbed his eyes again. "And hey, just so we're on the same page - bisexual means you're really into bicycles, right?"

He smiled at the sound of her laugh over the line.

"You're an idiot," she said, and hung up on him.

Tony rolled over and went to sleep smiling.

* * *

Since Maggie was already at the stage of running her own original research, MIT encouraged her to connect with other young researchers around the globe in a newly-set-up correspondence program. She quite enjoyed the discussions, and kept up correspondence with a few of the other researchers. One of these was a girl around her age called Jane Foster, who studied Astrophysics at Culver University and was already making ripples for her theoretical work and for making her own equipment. Her work was a bit out of Maggie's wheelhouse, but Maggie enjoyed the sheer _magnitude_ of their discussions: galaxies and cosmos and universes.

Jane and Maggie exchanged emails every few months for many years.

* * *

The dreams (she still refused to call them nightmares) never left.

One morning, as Maggie sat on the roof of her dorm watching the sun come up after a sleepless night, she buried her face in her hands and whispered: "What if he was real?"

Instantly, guilt slammed over her like a stack of concrete. Because if this dead-faced, metal-armed ghoul in her mind was real then he had _gotten away with it._ And Maggie had let her parents go unavenged.

The thought frightened her so much that she ran down to her room, drank herself asleep and avoided thinking about any of it for months.

* * *

June, 2004

In the summer break before her third year, Maggie mostly snoozed through the hot Malibu days in Tony's house. Her course convenor was right that her course load was a little much, but the break was a good time to reset. Though she was still doing some distance coursework for a few summer session classes.

Sleep came easier at the Malibu mansion. The dreams seemed to be kept at bay by the warmth and the company.

Tony threw a massive party at the mansion for Maggie's eighteenth birthday, and only slightly embarrassed her by giving a long speech and then jumping in the pool fully clothed. Mostly, though, her time back home was quiet. She also got a front row seat to his and Pepper's well-established rhythm: Pepper ushering out his hookups and handling every facet of his life, the both of them talking at and around each other. Somehow, it worked.

One morning Maggie watched, slumped on the couch, as Pepper chased Tony from room to room with an armful of folders.

"I know you want to spend the day with Maggie but I really need your final decision on this gala-"

"What gala?" Tony flung open the balcony door and walked out, drawing in the sea breeze. Pepper squeezed through after him.

"The SI Diversity gala which _you_ suggested. Yes? No?"

Tony squeezed back inside and circled behind the couch Maggie lay on. "I really don't see why we need so many galas, I thought this was a weapons manufacturing company-"

Pepper cornered him at the other end of the couch, surprisingly fast on her heels. "Again I remind you, this was _your_ idea."

"I don't remember that."

"Well you wouldn't, you were about fifteen drinks in, but you did suggest it at a staff party so that's on you-"

"You know, that shade of blue really goes with your eyes," Tony said, stepping into Pepper's slow advance and gesturing at her pale blue blouse. "Stunning, really, are you trying to impress me?" He stepped even closer, eyes glinting, and Pepper stopped him by pointing the corner of her clipboard into the centre of his chest.

Maggie rolled over to see them better, her eyebrows lifting, and stilled when she realized the corner of Pepper's mouth was twitching.

Pepper arched an eyebrow. "Gala, Tony. You don't have to plan it, all you have to do is be there, and give a very short speech which _I_ will write for you, and which you will no doubt improvise in the end anyway." She tapped the clipboard against his chest. "Yes. Or. No."

Tony whirled and threw up his hands. "Yes, fine, stop bothering me about it. But when this turns out to be another one of your buttoned-up non-parties, I swear-" the rest of his sentence trailed off as he walked out of the room.

Pepper, still standing behind the couch, let out a small sigh.

"You don't have to let him treat you like that, y'know," Maggie said, still lying on the couch.

Pepper blinked, as if she'd forgotten Maggie there, and looked down at her. "Oh, trust me, he's leaving that encounter far more frustrated than me."

"I know," Maggie smiled. "Tony's got a high tolerance for frustration though."

"So do I." Pepper had a steely-eyed look about her, and Maggie wanted to laugh. Pepper _liked_ this: Tony's obfuscations and snarky remarks, the way he presented unique problems.

"Well then," Maggie said. "Want a raise?"

Pepper circled the couch. "You don't have the authority to give me a raise, Ms Stark."

"J.A.R.V.I.S., give Pepper a raise."

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s tone was apologetic: " _I'm afraid_ -"

"Neither does J.A.R.V.I.S., Pepper cut in, almost smiling now.

Maggie sat up. "Pepper, give yourself a raise."

Pepper just smiled at that.

Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, then grinned. "J.A.R.V.I.S., tell Tony to give Pepper a raise."

The smile fell off Pepper's face.

A few moments passed, then:

" _Congratulations, Ms Potts_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said smoothly. " _You've been given a raise_."

Maggie cocked her head. " _Don't_ I have the authority?"

Pepper smiled, and didn't thank her, and that's why Maggie liked her.

* * *

August, 2004

Maggie finally earned her commercial pilot's license, and started flying odd jobs for hire. She never showed any of her charter passengers her face, which was easy enough if she wore sunglasses or a helmet, and kept an aloof demeanor. She quite liked being incognito, if only for a few hours.

* * *

November, 2004

"Thanks for coming in for an interview, Ms Stark."

Maggie smiled at the panel of interviewers - three men in sleek suits sitting along a table a few feet away - and then made herself comfortable in the seat provided. She didn't normally interview for things, but one of her professors had wanted her involved in a miniaturised engine project (he'd even been honest enough to admit that he wanted her insight while she was still working for free as an undergrad) and the school required all associates to go through a formal application process. She wore the navy blue suit Pepper had bought her for her birthday, and had handed copies of her CV to each of the interviewers when she walked in.

Maggie took a moment to gather her thoughts, then folded her hands together in her lap and looked up.

The man on the right ran an eye over her CV. "So, what experience do you have that qualifies you to work on this project?"

For the next ten minutes Maggie answered a series of questions she'd expected about her experience, professionalism, and what she could offer the project. She mentioned that she saw a possibility of manufacturing a jet engine the size of her fist, and all three of the interviewers raised their eyebrows. She also slipped in the fact that she was on track to graduate a year early, in the coming May.

When each of the men on the ends of the table had exhausted their questions, the man in the middle (the oldest, with silver hair and wire frame glasses) leaned forward.

"Miss Stark," he began, one hand resting on a manila folder, "you're aware of the PR element to this project?"

"Yes, I know there are eyes on the partnership with Boeing in particular. And I prefer _Ms_ Stark."

He nodded, eyes fixed on her face. "So you realize everyone working on this project will be subject to intense scrutiny."

Maggie almost frowned. "Yes?" _Where is this going?_

The interviewer's mouth quirked. "And you're not concerned about how your _image_ might impact the credibility of this project?"

She did frown at that. "My image? Has someone been saying I'm a bad engineer?"

"If only it were a matter of engineering," he replied, and then opened the manila folder his hand had been resting on. His fellow interviewers peered over. "For starters," he said as he sifted through the stack of paper within, "there's the matter of your criminality." He lifted a page and slid it forward on his desk so Maggie could see it: it was a newspaper clipping from last year, titled _Stark Justice: Howard Stark's daughter arrested in boozy brawl_ , accompanied by a blown-up copy of her mugshot from the Cambridge Police Department. Maggie remembered them taking that photo after her arrest: they'd told her not to smile.

The other two interviewers glanced at the clipping and then up at Maggie, discomforted. The one in the middle just eyed her face.

Maggie shrugged. "That's all true, but I don't actually have any criminal record since I was a minor when that happened."

The middle interviewer gave her a thin-lipped smile as if he'd been expecting that. "But you _are_ somewhat of a brawler, aren't you Miss Stark?" He slid forward several more pages, this time printed newspaper stories, mostly from gossip papers. Maggie leaned forward to read them.

They were the sort of articles she normally didn't bother with: ' _Margaret Stark's 'wild-child' violent night out on the town',_ others with 'insider sources' who claimed to know all about Maggie's anger management and drug addiction issues. There was one titled '" _Margaret Stark attacked me at a Cambridge bar": Tell All'_ , which made her lips quirk. The guy in the accompanying photograph, looking very sorry for himself, had groped her friend on the dance floor so she had kicked him between the legs. Another story had a grainy picture of her pouring a drink on someone, another of her mid shout, looming over a sitting man. Maggie nodded to herself as she read through the headlines.

The interviewer steepled his fingers. "You might see why a history of violence like this might concern us as overseers of a professional scientific project." Maggie opened her mouth, but he held up a hand and reached for _more_ papers. "There's also the matter of your more general _social activities_ ," he said with a tone of distaste.

He slid forward the new clippings, sliding the others aside. The interviewers sitting on either side of him stared at the headlines.

Maggie put a hand over her mouth as she was confronted with the new headlines:

' _Three boyfriends in three weeks! Maggie's wild semester.'_

'" _She's clearly got a serious attention-seeking problem": Margaret Stark's concerned friend speaks out'_

' _See Maggie Stark and "gal pal" student cuddling up at Cambridge diner.'_

There were quite a few articles speculating wildly about her sexuality, actually. Maggie smiled behind her hand as she read. Honestly, she didn't understand what her sexuality had to do with her academics. Even Obie had tried to gently suggest that she keep her same-sex flings quiet, saying it might not be a good look for the company. She'd laughed at him then, and she'd laugh at him now if he brought it up again.

The interviewer kept sliding forward more articles and photographs, a look of gravity on his face. Maggie remained still, reading with her hand over her mouth. When he'd finally presented the final one, Maggie leaned back in her chair and looked up.

"And?" she asked.

The interviewer let out a short laugh. "And? Miss Stark, this kind of publicity could ruin the project-"

"Ms," Maggie cut in evenly. "And it won't."

"Oh?" he sat back, matching her pose. "What has you so confident?"

Maggie took a moment to meet the eyes of each interviewer at the table, taking her time, then stood up. Slowly, she approached their desk and laid a hand on the papers strewn in front of them. "This is my social life. The only reason it's in the papers at all is because photographers like to follow me around. And take what you will from this" - she tapped the mess of articles accusing her of violence - "but I don't go around willy nilly hitting people I work with. This guy" - she gestured to the 'tell all' image - "Is an _actual rapist._ Three counts of sexual assault from the past five years, look him up. It's all public record. I'm not sorry for kicking him." The interviewer on the left glanced down at the article again and his lip curled.

Maggie returned to her seat and crossed her ankles. "You're right, though. I have a reputation." The middle interviewer still wouldn't take his eyes off her, his brow heavy and his jaw clenched. Maggie stared straight back at him. The other two glanced uncertainly at their colleague. "My brother has the same reputation. Worse, even. And the US Government buys their weapons from him. Why is it different with me?"

She cocked her head politely, eyeballing the three of them. Finally, the man in the middle dropped his gaze from her. He glanced at each of his colleagues, then looked back. He couldn't quite meet her eye.

Finally, the interviewer on the right leaned forward. "Thank you for coming, Ms Stark. We'll be in touch with our decision soon."

She smiled. "Thank you for your consideration." She stood, turned to leave, then hesitated. She turned back and stepped over to prod a finger down on the piles of papers on their desk. "Did you intend to give these to me, or should I leave them here?" she asked the middle interviewer, her eyebrows raised politely.

He grinded his teeth and finally met her eyes. "You can leave them."

"Great," Maggie smiled again. This time when she turned to leave, she didn't look back.

The next day, her professor called her at lunch. "You're in!" he exclaimed. "We'll see you in the lab next week, bright and early."

Maggie grinned. "Can't wait."

* * *

March, 2005

" _Why are you doing this?"_

_All movement ceases. The man stops, his hair obscuring his face, then his head swivels until he is looking down at her, face as blank as a sheet of ice._

_But then a furrow between his brows, a shift behind those sea grey eyes._

" _You are my mission."_

_He lets her go._

Maggie woke up on an inhaled scream, the feeling of weightlessness surging through her making her jerk bolt upright. She grabbed her arm, reached for her knees, which had just been biting into gravel- but no. She blinked and looked around. Just her dorm room. No crackling fire, no road. No man.

 _Again._ The dreams were getting worse.

For a few moments she just sat there, shivering. But then she rolled out of bed, pulled on her leg, and got dressed.

It took three and a half hours to drive to New York. Maggie left Cambridge at 3AM, her fingers white around the steering wheel and her pale skin concealed by a dark hoodie, so she got there just before dawn. Normally she listened to the radio, but she made the entire drive in silence.

She rolled up outside the Woodlawn Cemetery in darkness, killed the engine, and sat in silence for a few long moments. It was a quiet neighborhood of the Bronx: hers was the only car on the road, and the only sound she could hear was the distant trilling of waking birds. She eyed the sandstone buildings of the cemetery, behind the black gates.

Maggie climbed out of the car, shut the door quietly behind her, and strolled along the fence a ways. Then she glanced around, seized the iron rungs of the fence, and climbed over. Wasn't difficult - she supposed no one tried very hard to lock up a cemetery.

Her feet landed on the dewy lawn on the other side, and she set off through the darkness. The cemetery was more park than mausoleum, with unobtrusive gravel paths running between the lawns and trees. Maggie's footsteps made no sound, and if it weren't for the soft inhale and exhale of her breath she would have almost thought herself a ghost, moving soundlessly through the predawn darkness.

It took her only a few minutes to find them: two simple gravestones, side by side. She'd been here a couple of times before, so she didn't need the light to read their names. She crouched before them and reached out to trace the engravings in the stone.

The stone felt almost frozen to the touch.

Maggie let out a long, foggy breath, then sat down cross legged on the grass before the gravestones. She closed her eyes, shivering in the cool air. _Do you remember, too?_

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, eyes closed, palms on her knees and her mind in another decade. She only recognised dawn from the gentle wash of prickling warmth over her skin.

When she opened her eyes again, sunlight had filtered through the trees, illuminating the two gravestones.

_Howard._

_Maria._

Maggie rubbed her arms. _Was I supposed to be buried here, too?_ She wondered. _Am I here on borrowed time?_

She swallowed. "I remember you," she told the stones. "I remember everything. What… what am I supposed to do with these memories?"

The graves were silent.

Minutes later, footsteps crunching on a path brought Maggie out of her silent staring.

"Hey!" called a man's voice. "Hey, you're not supposed to be… here."

Maggie looked over her shoulder. The man stood a few yards away, frowning, wearing a blue uniform shirt and holding a rake. A groundskeeper. He glanced from the Stark graves to Maggie, zeroing in on her face. His frown softened and he sighed.

"You stay as long as you like," he eventually murmured. "But just for future reference, we open at 8:30."

Maggie nodded silently, and the groundskeeper turned to leave.

Maggie turned back to the graves. She ran her hands along her cold, damp legs and breathed in the sharp morning air. "I don't know what to do with the memories," she confessed, her mind caught on the image of mom and dad buried beneath all this dirt. "But… I won't forget. I promise. I won't forget."

* * *

June 3, 2005

The day after Maggie's nineteenth birthday, over two thousand students gathered in robes on the sunny lawns of MIT for their graduation ceremony. Maggie sweated under her mortarboard cap, her knee bouncing as she glanced around for glimpses of her friends.

Then Tony took the stage. Maggie sank as low in her chair as she could, avoiding the eyes of everyone glancing her way, and hoping that Tony wouldn't embarrass her. He wore a flashy suit and bright red sunglasses, his style growing more and more eclectic as he got older.

But to Maggie's surprise, Tony did not talk about her. Instead he paused a few moments, looking around at them all, before setting his hands on the lectern.

"I'm going to go a little off-book here, and talk about failure."

He spoke like Maggie had rarely heard him speak: honestly, openly, describing the highs and lows of his own achievement and the fickle nature of innovation. He was just as charming as ever, though, and even Maggie chuckled at his description of a rocket engineering project that had quite literally blown up in his face, though she'd heard the story countless times before. Slowly, she rose to a seated position again.

Everyone in the crowd of students hung on his every word, and Maggie hid her smile.

After a few moments, Tony cleared his throat. "So congratulations, class of 2005, you have a whole lot of failures to look forward to. I only hope you learn from them." He smiled at their laughter. "Oh, and I believe I also have a congratulations to give to a" - he made a show of picking up his notes and scrutinising them - "Margaret Stark," he read slowly, and they all laughed again. Everyone in her radius turned to stare at Maggie and she went bright red.

Tony continued: "For graduating at the terrifyingly young age of eighteen - well, nineteen as of yesterday. Knew you could do it, kid." He winked in her direction, though surely there was no way he could actually see her in amongst the crowd of students. Maggie flushed even redder and reached up to tip her mortarboard over her face.

Tony clapped his hands together. "Thanks for having me, graduates, you've been grand."

He walked off the stage to thunderous applause. Everyone shot to their feet, clapping and shouting, and Maggie suddenly found herself, blessedly, in the shade.

When Maggie's turn came to walk across the stage to receive her diploma, a piercing whistle emanated from the crowd. This was followed by more laughter, and smiling and blushing Maggie made her way off the stage again (she had to go back up again later to receive a few awards, but Tony thankfully didn't whistle again).

When the ceremony broke up, Maggie slipped through the crowds toward the guest area and practically ran into Happy. He'd been muscling his way through the throng of recent graduates. Behind him, Maggie spotted Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, and Obie. They looked sweaty and crowded, but the minute they spotted her in her black robe and hat they each grinned.

Maggie, her arms full of her diploma and awards, beamed back at them. "Thank you for coming, guys."

* * *

June, 2005

Maggie wasn't done with learning. She'd arranged months ago to go straight on to a Masters degree in September, focusing on her specific engineering interests. But she wanted more.

Soon after her graduation she moved back to LA and started work at Stark Industries, in an entry level job in the R&D Department. Maggie didn't remember ever having made the decision to take the job, it had just… happened. Like summer fading into fall.

Maggie didn't move back into the mansion, though. She rented her own apartment in LA, closer to SI, and split her time between there and the mansion. Tony had scowled when he found out.

 _I need my own space,_ Maggie had told him.

_And my 8000 square foot mansion doesn't have enough space for you?_

She had smiled at him. _You know I'll still come over, Tony. But… you have to let me figure myself out._

He'd sighed at her. _Trust you to be the one with the identity crisis._

Her apartment was nice - not Tony levels of nice, but nicer than her tiny first year dorm. It had plenty of workspace for her grad work, though she usually ended up in Tony's workshop or the SI labs for her practical projects.

At SI she flourished in the R&D workshop. Tony and Pepper tried to train Maggie in the business side of things, and though Maggie sat through the seminars and meetings she knew early on that she wasn't interested. Still, it _was_ a business, so she worked on projects assigned to her by the board and helped sell their products to investors. She couldn't work on _whatever_ she wanted.

She'd always loved the SI headquarters. She loved the sleek metal and glass walls, the brilliance surrounding her, the exciting tests and projects one could find if they only poked their head through a door, the thrill of a shockwave rippling over her in the demolitions lab. Pepper occasionally had to admonish her for unprofessionalism (calling a board member a rude word) and professional dress (Maggie had forgotten to do laundry, and worn a hoodie instead of her usual blazer), but on the whole Maggie knew she was far less of a pain than her brother. Though she wasn't the CEO.

She and Tony were a potent mix in the SI workshops. If any of the engineers and scientists had hoped she would be a sensible influence on Tony's wild inventive tangents, they were soon disappointed. Maggie might be quieter than Tony, but she never said _stop_. She just came along for the ride. Within three weeks of Maggie being hired, there was a small incident in the demolitions bay and she and Tony had to sit through a safety seminar. Maggie figured out how to say _stop_ after that, but she used it sparingly. She and Tony usually had their own projects and designs, but collaborated for the bigger stuff. One of their best projects, in Maggie's opinion, was the synthetic farming they'd designed in a lull between Armed Forces projects.

Tony's specialty was computer systems and sleek, fast, destructive weaponry. Maggie found herself drawn toward cybernetics and the biological link to the mechanical. She boosted their prosthetics line. _Machines are great, Tony,_ she reminded him one day as they sat sipping cold coffee in the empty R&D workshop. _But you have to remember there are people in the world as well._

Soon enough, word got back to Maggie about a joke circulating in the engineering community: _The Starks blow people up and then replace the missing parts with metal._

* * *

The articles about Maggie only got more numerous and more dramatic now she'd moved back to LA. It seemed she got photographed at every single party she went to, and they always used the _least_ flattering photo. Once she even got caught by a couple of bored paparazzos on a walk of shame; smudged makeup, yesterday's clothes and heels dangling from her hand. She'd frozen for a moment when they spotted her, panicked, before she decided _to hell with it._ The photos hit the magazines the next day, of her swanning down the street like a model on a runway.

She got some odd looks at work after that. But they'd all seen Tony in far worse condition on national news, so they were happy to go back to discussing engine manufacturing.

And Tony's own wild behaviour didn't leave Maggie untouched. He'd ramped up parties in the mansion since she'd left for college, and had really hit his stride as Stark Industries's eccentric CEO. Occasionally, journalists would corner Maggie to either ask her nosy questions about SI, or about Tony. She never quite had Tony's flair for the dramatic in her answers. A reporter from _E!_ cornered her once after her 20th birthday and shoved a microphone in her face:

"Tony Stark reportedly spent a booze-soaked weekend at Senator Markus's wife's apartment two weeks ago, what's your comment on that?" he'd demanded, eyes glinting.

"Sounds like a quiet weekend," Maggie shrugged, and strode past him.

Pepper had later yelled at her for that.

* * *

August, 2006

Tony rarely visited Maggie's apartment, on principle. He was mildly irritated by the idea of her needing to rent a whole other house in a city where he already had plenty of room for her, and also sensitive to the fact that she was a twenty year old woman who needed her own space (though he'd never admit it). Besides, they saw each other every day at SI. Even he had to admit that two fully grown Starks in one room was a lot.

When he did come over, he snooped. On this particular occasion, Maggie stood in her kitchen fixing a pair of drinks and pretending she couldn't hear Tony rifling through her bookshelf in the living room.

" _Lord of the Rings_?" he called as he gave up and strode back into the kitchen. "You're an even bigger nerd than I thought."

"Says the man who read me _The Hobbit_ when I was six," she fired back, not turning around. She dropped a few ice cubes in each glass.

When she heard paper moving on her kitchen counter, she turned. Tony was now making his way through the stack of paperwork on her counter: mostly college work, project forms, and…

"What's this?" Tony asked, looking down at the manila folder with the _NYPD_ logo stamped on the front.

Maggie grabbed his drink and slid it toward him, hoping he wouldn't notice her sliding the folder away in the same movement. But he just narrowed his eyes at her.

"What is it?"

Maggie slid the folder under a stack of her assignment drafts. "Oh, it's…" she couldn't say _nothing_ , because that would just make it worse. But how to explain?

How to explain that she'd been casually looking into what had happened on the evening of the 16th of December 1991? How she'd tracked down the police report, which had told her so much and so little: the CCTV camera she remembered was noted as 'defective' in the file, and also included were photographs of the crumpled, charred car. How to explain that she'd read through the whole morgue report for their parents?

There was no mention of her 'metal-armed man' in the file, not even in the notes about her own interview. Maggie had looked up the two main detectives, but they'd both died in a train accident a few years later. How to explain that she'd looked into what Dad had been working on at the time - after remembering they'd been on their way to the Pentagon that night - only to hit a dead end? Maggie couldn't explain any of that. She hadn't even really properly admitted to herself that she was… investigating. It had just been something she was doing, something she wasn't ready to confront. Like an addict in denial.

Maggie swallowed, and turned around to pick up her own drink. She shrugged one shoulder. "It's the police report from the car crash."

She felt Tony's shock radiate across the counter. "Why do you have that?"

She shrugged again. "I guess I was curious. It's different, remembering it as an adult." She turned, still avoiding Tony's eyes, and sipped her drink.

He eyed her. "How did you get it?"

 _Not particularly legally_. "Called in a favor. It's okay, I promise." She finally met his eyes, and was surprised at the depth there. She always forgot this part of Tony; the part that was serious, and felt things deeply. She'd seen less of it as she'd gotten older and could look after herself.

Tony didn't break eye contact. "Are you? Okay?"

"Yeah," she said, and looked away to sip her drink again. "I'm fine."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "I'd tell you if I wasn't." She turned to cut a few lime wedges, and both of them stewed in the knowledge of her lie.

* * *

November, 2006

"Good morning, gentlemen," Maggie smiled, as the Stark Industries Head of Government Operations led five uniformed men into the gleaming Engineering bay.

She stood in her best suit with her hands clasped in front of her, dwarfed by the model missile propped on a stand beside her. She saw the men run their eyes over it as the SI head ushered them in and made sure they were comfortable. Maggie shook each of their hands, and made sure to exert more pressure than they did. She'd learned that from Pepper. The men smiled politely at her - she knew most of them already - and glanced back at the missile appraisingly.

Maggie knew the missile looked impressive: it was a smooth, gunmetal grey with _Stark Industries_ stamped on the side, every surfaced polished to a gleam. This missile was smaller than the last model they'd sold the armed forces though, and she could already see two of the men (one in an Army uniform and the other Navy) giving it dubious looks.

The SI head gave his part of the sales presentation first, so Maggie took her chance to really focus on the men she was about to sell to. Each of them was military, and each of them had been buying Stark weaponry for the armed forces for years, but that didn't mean they'd buy just anything: Stark Industries still had its competitors. Maggie glanced over her shoulder at the few of the other engineers who'd been on the project with her and smiled encouragingly.

The SI head ended his sales pitch with: "So you'll see, gentlemen, we've specifically designed the Dart missile for the new and unique needs of all our armed forces. Now I'll hand you over to our star engineer to talk specifics." He smiled at Maggie, straightened his tie, then stepped back.

For a few moments, Maggie didn't speak. She stood beside her missile with her hands clasped and her eyes roving over the five men standing before her. They didn't fidget - they were military men. Though she did see a glimmer of surprise in the eyes of the Army buyer, General Rowes; he'd been dealing with Stark Industries the longest, and he was probably more used to the way Tony did things.

Maggie looked at the missile propped beside her. "The Dart," she began. "You've heard the brief, but I know you all know your way around a weapon by now." She began pacing, circling slowly behind the missile. "I know you'll have noticed that we've adapted the wings from what you'd normally see on a standard missile." She ran a finger over one of the curved wing plates at the base of the missile. "I designed these myself, and as you'll read in the packs we gave you, this new design generates much less wind resistance, making this missile at least 20% faster in the air than the previous model."

She kept circling. "The targeting system has been completely rewritten to avoid the bugs of former models. The Palladium lining on the computer chip can power it for extended flight. This missile can be launched, guided, and detonated completely remotely, from a naval vessel, aircraft, or even a computer on the other side of the world." She saw a few eyebrows twitch and hid her smile. "But you don't want me talking at you, you want to see what it can do."

The Air Force representative shot an uneasy look at the missile and Maggie smiled. "Don't worry, this one's been deactivated. But I prepared this for you earlier-" she clicked her fingers, and with her other hand touched the remote control in her pocket.

A screen slid down from the ceiling behind her, whirring smoothly. Maggie stepped aside and hit the remote again. A video appeared:

A desert landscape, hot and brown, with patches of brittle scrub. Maggie knew the site well - this was Stark Industries' detonation field in the Californian desert, and she'd been there the day this video was filmed. Maggie's audience leaned forward. A level voice came through the speakers:

"Three. Two. One-"

Half a second later a flicker of a shadow lanced through the air, followed by a bloom of scorching white light that burned into raging scarlet flames and then into black, roiling smoke that curled in on itself and rose into the air. Another half second later a _boom_ that had been earsplitting in person crackled through the speakers. Sand erupted from the blast zone, radiating outwards, and the camera frame shuddered from the blast.

Maggie knew that she'd let out a _whoop_ at that point, but the PR team had edited it out of the video.

"Impressive," said General Rowes, the violence of the explosion flickering in his eyes as he watched the screen. "But that's a controlled test. What kind of blast range are we talking about with this smaller model?"

Maggie kept her back to the video, so they would see the inferno as she spoke. "An advantage of the Dart is that your aim doesn't need to be precise to the square metre. You can reasonably expect a blast radius of 500 yards, and that's a conservative estimate. And as you've seen with the shockwave, the warhead is packed with enough explosives to not only effectively destroy whatever you drop it on, but ensures a blast radius of shrapnel with destruction efficiency three times greater than the last missile we designed." She turned back to the video to point at it. "In fact-"

She stopped mid sentence. A ball of hellfire still raging on the desert sand looked back at her, raining down ash and scraps of metal. The fire flickered behind her eyes, and with a flinch she turned away, only to find herself faced with the missile. Sleek. Clean. Sterile.

_What am I doing?_

Her hand dropped. A wave of ice washed over her, freezing her in place and chilling her bones. She stared at the warhead, which one day she would pack full of explosives and wrap it up in a box to be shipped off to one of these men. She'd been so _proud_ of this missile when she finished it, after all the time and effort she'd poured into it. She'd popped a bottle of champagne over it with the other engineers and laughed.

 _What am I_ _doing_?

Maggie had done all the math on the destructive capabilities of this machine. This weapon. But… she hadn't really thought about it. And she should have, because she _knew_ how it felt to be torn apart, to live with the aftereffects of damage and trauma.

_The Starks blow people up and then replace the missing parts with metal._

Someone was speaking to her, but instead she looked down, at where a metal limb peeked out from between her slacks and her shoe. She drew in a breath and felt the metal plates and wires lodged in her spine.

"... Ms Stark?" prompted General Rowes.

Maggie took a step back, and the feeling of her prosthetic leg propping her up made her stomach flip over. She could still hear the explosion roaring behind her. She sucked in a breath and looked up.

"I… have to go."

She heard half the people in the room draw in a breath to speak. But Maggie was gone before they could: she practically ran to the door and burst through, not looking back. Her shoes seemed loud against the gleaming floor as she dashed down the corridor and to the stairs. Her heart beat filled her ears, and her own sharp breathing seemed to tear at her throat.

She yanked her employee tag off her jacket and practically threw it at the receptionist at the front desk, then ran out into the cool air. Running through the carpark felt good - her heart thundering, the wind in her ears, her feet pounding along the concrete. She didn't stop running until she found her bike, kicked the engine in gear and took off out of the car park like she was being chased.

Maggie wasn't sure if she blinked during the whole ride back to her apartment. When she got home she parked haphazardly and hurried to her door. As she unlocked it she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. _Pepper,_ she guessed. She ignored it.

She spilled through the door and for a few moments just stood there in the threshold of her apartment. Clean, sleek, home. Her heart beat faster, and for a few moments she was sure it would beat right out of her chest.

Her phone rang again. Instead of answering it she went to her bedroom, grabbed the rucksack she used to use in college, and started stuffing clothes in. She packed an extra prosthetic leg, her emergency cash supply, the knife under her mattress, and a pair of sturdy boots. As she packed with one hand, she worked on her phone with the other.

First she booked a flight: not a private charter, but an economy ticket for the first plane she spotted on the Los Angeles International Airport departures homepage. Qatar. It didn't really matter where, though.

Then she sent Pepper an email.

* * *

Two hours later Maggie sat stiffly in the airport departures lounge, wearing jeans, sunglasses and a hoodie, with her rucksack propped against her chair. No one had recognised her so far except for the TSA guy who'd read her passport and shot her a funny look. Maggie hardly even recognised herself.

Her eyes were fixed out the window to her left, at the planes rolling down the runway and soaring up into the sky. Her knee bounced.

A buzzing in her pocket had her glancing away. She pulled her phone out of her pocket: Tony calling. She'd let his other fifteen calls go to voicemail, as well as the ten from Pepper, the eight from Obie, and the six each from Rhodey and Happy.

Maggie drew in a deep breath, swallowed, and accepted the call. "Hey Tony," she said in a low voice.

" _Maggie_ ," he said all in a rush, sounding as if he'd expected her to ignore this call too. "Maggie, what's going on? You ran out of the building, and Pepper's got this email saying you're quitting? I went to your apartment but you weren't there… where are you?"

She swallowed again. "I'm at the airport."

He paused for a beat, absorbing that. "Uh, why?"

"I'm… catching a flight."

"To _where_?"

"Overseas." a flicker of guilt faded through her numbness. "Qatar."

" _Qatar_?" She could practically hear him pacing. "Maggie, please, explain this to me."

She drew in a breath and opened her mouth to explain, to try to describe the explosion in her chest. But then she recalled a memory:

Dad. White haired and sharp eyed, he'd carried her into his workshop on his hip and set her on his workbench so she could see everything, his hands rough and warm. He'd smiled at her rush of questions and hadn't answered any of them. Maggie remembered him putting a hand on her shoulder, and sweeping the other around at the contraptions and inventions and engines and missiles and firearms in the room. _This is the Stark legacy, Maggie_ , he'd told her, and it had the air of constant repetition. _And one day it'll be yours._

Maggie shut her mouth. She bowed over in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose.

" _Flight QR503 to Doha is now boarding_ ," came a smooth voice over the airport speakers.

Maggie rubbed her forehead. She couldn't speak her doubts aloud. So instead, she said: "I needed a change of scene."

"What does that even mean?" Tony asked, his voice strained. "Did something happen?'

"Nothing happened," she said softly. "I'll let you know when I figure it out. I love you, Tony."

"Hang on-"

Maggie hung up the phone. She stood, drawing her shoulders straight, picked up her rucksack and headed to the line for boarding.

Half an hour later Maggie's nose pressed against her plastic window as the airplane raced along the runway, faster and faster until a swoop of weightlessness lurched in her gut and they soared into the sky.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, my loves!

January, 2007

"Maggie? You there?"

"Good morning Tony," Maggie smiled, leaning back in a cafe chair overlooking the Chao Phraya river in Bangkok. A red ferry chugged past, briefly overpowering the noise of the city.

"Well it's good _evening_ in Myanmar, isn't it?" came Tony's carefully even voice.

"It is, but… I'm in Thailand now. It's evening here too though." The sun was setting on the city, casting orange light over the wide river. "It's good to hear your voice."

She meant it wholeheartedly. Two months after her impulsive flight out of LA, she and Tony had developed a system. Their first phone call had been long, and angry. Tony had flown to Doha to retrieve Maggie, but she'd already hopped on another plane to Bangladesh. He had called her, near out of his mind with worry and frustration, and Maggie had refused to meet him. He had yelled at her, and it had ended with them laying ground rules: Maggie had to call Tony at least once every two weeks, or he'd bring in the police and the FBI and Interpol and every other authority he could think of to get her home.

Maggie had travelled far and wide since then. Last time she'd called Tony she'd been in Myanmar. She'd slowly been making her way down into Southeast Asia, sightseeing and trying new things and enjoying anonymity. Because she'd quickly realised that as a drifter, she didn't get recognized as often. She wore different clothes, different makeup styles, cut her hair, and used temporary dyes to change hair color every week or so. Today she wore a flowy yellow sundress, and had neon pink hair. Her boots were kicked up on a nearby chair and she nursed a vibrant orange cocktail in her free hand.

She'd learned a lot in two months. She had taken up gymnastics again, and attended martial arts classes wherever she went. At some point when she'd worked at SI she had stopped doing the things she'd enjoyed, and hadn't even noticed. She learned new skills from the fellow drifters she'd met along the way: she'd learned to pick a lock in Dhaka, how to sneak into an event she had no ticket for in Mandalay, and how to steal in Laos. She knew she didn't necessarily _need_ these skills, but she never turned down a learning opportunity. Living with no consequences or responsibility felt like a breath of fresh air.

"Good to hear your voice too," Tony said, and Maggie blinked and took a sip from her cocktail. "Are you okay? You've got somewhere to stay in Bangkok?"

Maggie smiled. She hadn't said _where_ in Thailand she was. He must have traced the call. Tony tried to trace every phone call they had, and most times she let him. She didn't regret leaving, but she missed Tony every day. And he deserved to know she was safe, after all she'd put him through. He still didn't understand why she'd left, but he knew better than to test Maggie's resolve.

"I'm fine, Tony, really," she reassured him. "Are you okay?" She'd read a headline about another one of his wild parties on the weekend, which had to have been something if it made the news in _Thailand._ He seemed to have gone off the rails a little recently.

"You know me, I'm always having a good time," Tony replied offhandedly, and Maggie wished she could see his eyes. "How's your leg?"

"Still missing," Maggie smirked, glancing at her flesh-colored prosthetic.

"You're a pest," he sighed. "Hey, it's Pepper!" His voice perked up. "Pepper, it's Maggie! Say hi to Maggie!"

A few moments later: "Hello, Maggie," came Pepper's smiling voice. "Are you okay? Do you need money?"

Maggie laughed under her breath. "I'm okay! More than okay." She sipped her drink. "How is everyone?"

Tony answered. "Rhodey's fine, he's in D.C. for some political thing. Happy is still convinced you've been abducted."

Maggie smiled and rolled her eyes. She'd done her best to convince Happy of her welfare two months ago, but he'd remained suspicious ever since then. Maggie had had to email him a few photos of herself making various gestures with a current newspaper.

"The company's fine too, no thanks to you," Tony continued. "Obie just sold the last batch of Dart missiles and we've got orders for more."

She pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment, feeling her chest getting tight. For a week or two she'd avoided all thoughts of why she'd left, but after that… it had crashed down on her. Maggie had never understood the term _soul searching_ before, but while backpacking through Bangladesh she had looked inwards and found _pain_. Not just pain leftover from that car crash when she was a child, but shards and shreds of damage from much more recently.

Working at SI had been hurting her, and she'd been too wrapped up in the excitement of invention and working with her brother to realise it. It had taken her instinctive, impulsive escape for her to finally confront herself. She knew now that she wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- make weapons any longer. Now she tried not to think about the _Stark Legacy_ at all.

Cautiously, she brought the phone back to her ear.

"... and MIT keeps calling and emailing to try to get you to come back to finish your Masters. What should I tell them?"

Maggie grimaced, and the waiter approaching to take her empty drink retreated. "I formally withdrew, I don't know why they're hassling you. Just tell them I'm not planning to go back any time soon."

Tony was silent for a few moments, and she wondered if MIT really had been hassling him.

She swallowed and searched for a change of topic. "I saw some monkeys today," she said. "They were bullying some tourists."

He laughed, and she let out a sigh of relief. "They didn't bother you?"

"Nope."

"Must have realised you bore a family resemblance." There was some noise over his end of the line, and Tony said distantly: "No can do, I'm busy Obie. I - seriously?" His voice grew louder. "Mags, I'm really sorry but-"

"Duty calls?" she guessed.

"Yes," he groaned. "I'll talk to you soon. You promise you're okay?"

"Always, Tony. Love you."

He paused again. "Bye, Maggot."

She hung up.

* * *

When the monotonous dial tone sounded through the headset, any shreds of joviality left Tony's face. He set down the phone, eyeing Obie as he left the room, then shared a glance with Pepper. She sat in the chair opposite his desk, watching him.

"Maybe you're right," he said. He tried to crush the white and grey _Stark Industries_ stress ball in his free hand. "Maybe she really did just need space. A whole planet's worth of space."

"She sounds fine," Pepper agreed gently. "I know it was sudden, but I…" he heard what she didn't say: _I would do the same, if I were her._ "I think this is what she needs."

Tony dropped his head into his hands. His computer screen still showed the call trace J.A.R.V.I.S had done: _BANGKOK, THAILAND._ "I don't know what I could have done to make her stay."

"I'm not sure this is about you," Pepper replied. "Which I know you'll hate to hear." He glanced up, glaring, and she smiled at him. "Maggie needs to figure out what it means to be Maggie, and if she has to do that on another continent, then I think we should let her."

"But I hate it. What if something goes wrong?"

She sighed. "I've known Maggie since she was fifteen. She's not invincible, but if anyone can take care of themselves alone in a foreign country, it's her. She's almost twenty one, Tony, she's well and truly grown up."

Tony nodded to himself. He still hated it, but Pepper was right. Maybe he could stand to ease up on the freaking out. Heaven knew that he'd had plenty of his own quarter life crises.

Pepper's lips quirked. "I'd give _you_ all of two days alone in a foreign country before you ran out of food."

Tony threw his stress ball at her.

* * *

March, 2007  
Beijing, China

Two months later and two thousand miles away, Maggie swore at a hissing car engine and smacked it with a wrench.

"Is this how you fix all my engines?" someone asked in Mandarin behind her, and Maggie glanced over to see her employer, Li, arching an eyebrow at her.

Maggie had taken this mechanic job in the far north of Beijing four weeks ago. She'd learned a bit of Mandarin at school so she could get by, and had learned plenty since arriving. Her interview at the garage had consisted of being presented with a broken engine and being asked to fix it, so she let her skills do the talking.

The garage also doubled as a chop shop, but she pretended she didn't know that. She was more of a consultant, coming up with solutions to the trickier issues they hadn't managed to solve yet, and fixed up the vehicle carcasses in the back yard when she had the time. It was a grimy place full of old rusting cars and stacks of metal parts, more of a junk yard than a mechanic shop.

Maggie didn't really need to work, but she wanted to live quietly in Beijing. She'd rented a tiny short lease room under a false name, and she needed to prove that she had some kind of income. Because she'd come here with a _purpose._

She smiled wryly at her boss. "Sorry. Sometimes I need to show them who's in charge."

Li shrugged. "Well it seems to be working." He watched, hands in the pockets of his overalls, as Maggie turned back to the engine and started properly fixing it. She replaced one of the air intake hoses, tightened the connections on the rest, and then replaced the coolant on the others. She wiped the grease off her hands, then slid into the driver's seat to start the engine. It kicked up with a low rumble, and no signs of hissing. A soothed beast.

Nodding to herself, Maggie turned off the car and slid out again. Li seemed amused.

"That's the end of my shift," she told him as she headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Heading to the Monster Bar again, _laowai_?"

Maggie smiled at the slightly impolite term for _foreigner_ as she grabbed her bag. Li hadn't believed her when she told him her name was Mary. "So you heard about that?"

"I was there last week," he laughed. "You did very well. I lost money betting against you."

She laughed as she rolled up the garage door, letting the orange afternoon sun and smoggy air flood inside. "That will teach you to bet against me."

She'd walked down the drive and was almost at the front gate when Li called after her: "Why do you do it?"

Maggie looked back, squinting in the setting sun, and considered the question. "Practice."

Two hours later, Maggie pushed open the door of the _Guàiwù_ Bar and shivered as the warmth inside washed out over her. There was no sign over the door or any indication that it was a drinking establishment, save for the red paper lanterns out front, but it was packed inside all the same.

Maggie shut the door behind her and pressed her way through the sweaty, liquor-breathed crowd. Smoke filled her lungs, and her face glowed red from the neon sign over the bar. Loud rock music blared through the crackly speakers.

The _Guàiwù_ Bar had two levels: the upper one, with seats and the well-stocked bar, and the lower, with bare wooden floors and a circular metal cage.

Maggie waved to the bartender and he poured her a drink. She watched him the whole time he made it. She sat alone at the bar when he handed it to her, and cast an eye out over tonight's clientele. About ninety per cent men, from a variety of backgrounds: the _Guàiwù_ 's evening entertainment attracted rich and poor alike. Some people travelled internationally exclusively to spend a night here.

When the music faded out, a buzz of excitement prickled through the crowd. Maggie finished her drink just as the _Guàiwù's_ owner, a ruddy-faced man with slicked hair named Wang Lei, picked up the microphone and began speaking in rapid, excited Mandarin. People pressed toward the balcony or rushed down the stairs to surround the cage, sloshing drinks over the already sticky floor.

Maggie cocked an eyebrow at the bartender, who nodded and opened a door by the bar. Maggie slid her empty glass across the bar and then made her way through the door to the back room. She pulled off her jacket and her work trousers, leaving her in a pair of fabric shorts and a t-shirt, and kicked off her shoes. She wore tights, to hide her prosthetic leg. As the volume increased in the other room, she tied up her hair. Finally, she stretched up on her toes to reach the top shelf of the backroom, and pulled down two old boxing gloves.

A roar of noise erupted in the main room, followed by the blaring of rock music again. Maggie pulled on the gloves as she headed down a set of narrow wooden steps, then pushed out onto the lower floor of the bar.

She found herself in a roped-off area, already occupied by several other people wearing shorts and boxing gloves: mostly men, but a couple of women. They stretched and bounced on the balls of their feet, eyes on the cage.

The rest of the bar's clientele were packed around the cage. They shouted and laughed and pointed, watching as the two young men inside circled each other. Some turned to eye up the fresh meat in the roped off area, muttering to their friends and passing their bets to the bar owner. Wang Lei stood in pride of place at the centre of the balcony, excitedly narrating the cage fight through his cheap mic system and ramping up the audience's eagerness.

The larger man in the cage swung his elbow into the other man's side, and the crowd _roared_.

Maggie took a seat against the wall, quietly breathing. The booming music and swooping roar of voices had overwhelmed her on the first night, but she was used to it now.

The fight ended when the smaller man kicked the back of the bigger one's knee, downing him, before slamming his knee into his head. Even Maggie winced.

Two by two, the rest of the fighters were called up. Maggie's turn came third, and as she guessed she was paired with one of the other women - a foreigner like her, maybe Indonesian, with bright eyes and a scar through her eyebrow. The crowd parted to let them toward the cage door, and Maggie stepped through with her back to the other woman. The door slammed shut behind them with a rattle.

The music seemed louder in here, without the crush of people to absorb the noise. People pressed their face against the mesh of the cage and hung over the balcony, staring, like a forest of watching eyes. Wang Lei's theatrical speech was almost indistinguishable from the pounding rock music, but Maggie caught most of the words as he introduced the two new fighters with all the showmanship of a ringmaster. He called her _Chaofeng_ and her opponent _Taotie,_ both monsters from Chinese legend. Maggie stood flat-footed and still. The other woman stretched and flexed, and even winked at one of the men in the crowd.

Wang Lei went over the rules: _No Biting. No Weapons. That's it._ The crowd chuckled with the low anticipation of a predator about to strike.

" _Begin_."

The fight lasted four minutes. The owner had told Maggie last time that each round had to take at least three minutes or no one got paid, so she felt she was being generous with the amount of time she spent ducking and weaving. Taotie even got some hits in, including one aching blow to her hip. That was the moment Maggie decided to end it.

Taotie's eyes widened the instant Maggie made her decision - she had seen the sudden shift in Maggie's demeanour. The ducking and showboating stopped. She brought her fists in, tightly defending her head like Happy had shown her, and her previously dancing, obvious steps became light. Maggie's eyes focused wholly on Taotie, unblinking and dark.

To her credit, Taotie launched forward in an attack. She threw a heavy punch, her teeth gritted, but Maggie weaved under it and popped back up with a feint punch which had Taotie taking a step back. Maggie used her momentum to step, spin, and throw a high roundhouse kick which _cracked_ against the other woman's jaw. She'd learned that one in Thailand.

Taotie hit the ground.

Maggie stood still for a few moments, acknowledging her victory as the roar of the crowd washed back over her, then stepped forward to help Taotie up and out of the ring. The woman spat blood onto Maggie's feet, which Maggie thought was fair.

Maggie fought three more rounds that night, the rest against men. She lost one with a nasty elbow to her ribs that landed her gasping on the ground. But she rose smiling, a loser, because she knew she would never let that happen again.

This wasn't the first shady fighting competition Maggie had been a part of. She'd started with a Muay Thai club in Bangkok, when exhausting herself at gymnastics didn't cut it anymore. She liked the fights probably too much: honing her skills and bloodying her fists on other people. She didn't always win, but it felt good to peel back all the layers of society and culture and politeness until it was just _her_ : her fists and her skills against another person's. She learned with every fight.

In her last round of the night, Maggie scaled the side of the cage until she balanced on the top, her gloves on the bar and her legs bunched under herself. Then she flew.

Her opponent went down under her with a crunch.

(Wang Lei had offered Maggie an extra 10% for every time she did the cage jump. It's how she'd gotten her name that first night, after all: _Chaofeng,_ one of the nine sons of the dragon, most often seen perched on the edge of a precipice.)

With the fighting over, Maggie went back to drinking. Most of the rowdy drunks spilled out of the bar after the evening's entertainment to start trouble on the streets, so at least the bar was quieter. Her ribs ached and she'd split one of her knuckles, but she sat relaxed in her seat at the bar.

Knocking back a beer, she cast a glance out the corner of her eye at a young man sitting in the shadowed corner of the room. He was a regular. He always sat in that corner, perhaps hoping the darkness might conceal the burn mark that stretched from his chin to his ear. He drank straight Baijiu and placed bets on every fight.

_Tonight's the night_ , Maggie decided. She ordered two drinks, rose, and then strode across the bar to sit down beside the man. He stiffened, and did not relax when she slid one of the drinks towards him.

"You still don't bet on me, even though you've seen me fight," Maggie commented.

He shrugged, leaning further into shadow. "The odds are better for me if you lose."

"Maybe one day I'll stop losing."

"Then," he said cautiously, and slowly curled his fingers around the drink she'd brought. "I might bet on you."

She laughed. "So, how do you judge a fighter you've never seen fight before?"

They spoke about the fights for another ten minutes, comparing notes and pointing out weaknesses. Maggie played drunk and slightly dim, sloshing her drink on the table,

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Do you mind if I ask…?" she gestured to his face.

His mouth turned down and he retreated into shadow again, like a turtle into his shell. "I got this when I was young. A theatre fire."

"Right, I heard about that. The Silver Theatre, right?" There was a placard commemorating the theatre in front of the shopping centre that occupied the block now, commemorating the twelve dead.

Her conversation partner nodded, his eye skittering away.

"That must have been awful," she said warmly. "And such a shame they still don't know how it happened."

He eyed her. "What do you mean? It was an electrical fire."

"Oh, sorry. I thought they weren't sure." She shrugged.

"Well it couldn't have been anything else," he continued, a small note of hurt in his voice.

"I suppose so. The rumors I heard must have been wrong." She sipped her drink.

He frowned at her. "Rumors?"

She glanced around, then leaned in. "I heard…" she lowered her voice, and made sure the liquor on her breath washed over his face. "That there was a strange man at the theatre that night. A man with a metal arm."

She feigned wide-eyed intrigue, to hide the way her whole attention was zeroed in on the man's face. To her surprise, he laughed. "Oh, you mean Zhou Yi's story. I didn't know people were still talking about her."

Maggie cocked an eyebrow. "Zhou Yi?" As if she hadn't pored over the woman's witness statement to the police, and every subsequent detail about her life.

"Zhou Yi was there that night, but the fire drove her mad," the man said. "She had all sorts of stories: faceless demons, men with metal limbs, fire monsters. She didn't leave her house at all after the fire until she died. Poor woman."

Maggie tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. She wanted to push further, but it was clear this man could not help her. So she steered the conversation in a different path, to hide her real purpose for talking to him. She was hardly aware of what they talked about after that.

With all the significance and responsibility of the Stark name stripped away, Maggie had realised that there was a deeper part of her that demanded gave up on reading police reports about the 1991 car crash and trying to spot hidden details, and instead began a more targeted investigation. An investigation into an assassin with a metal arm.

At first she was met with a fat lot of nothing. Covering her tracks, she'd delved through old case studies and police reports, hunting for any mention of him. Until finally she'd spotted a mention of a man with a metal arm in connection with a Beijing district tragedy. She'd been _sure_ there was some connection. The fire had only been ten years ago. But everyone she spoke to either looked at her like she was crazy, or laughed at her.

Maggie left the bar that night with a blooming bruise, a pocketful of cash and a sour sense of disappointment. She practically kicked down the door to her tiny room and fell face down onto her squeaky bed.

_He was the last living witness._ With nothing of use on the CCTV footage she'd recovered, and no other mentions of this metal armed man, she had nothing.

_Maybe this really is all in my head, I came all the way to_ _China_ _to chase a delusion._

She rolled over and glared at the ceiling. _Perhaps I'm looking at it wrong._ She frowned and kneaded her temples. _Forget the living. Listen to the dead._ She ran a mental tally of the Silver Theatre victims. All had lived locally, but she remembered… four of them, a family, were immigrants. She recalled finding their immigration papers from Russia, and guessing that they'd moved, as had so many others, after the fall of the Soviet Union. She hadn't found any documents on them before that, but that wasn't unusual for the Soviet Union, and she hadn't looked very hard.

_If this man is real_ , Maggie considered, _then I know he's been in both America and China. Chasing the international connection here makes sense._ A sudden thought occurred to her.

_Russia. The Soviet Union was formally dissolved on the 26th of December, 1991. Ten days after the car crash._ Her brow wrinkled. _Maybe a coincidence._

She sat up, and let out a sigh. _Looks like I'm moving again._

* * *

April, 2007  
Astana, Kazakhstan

Leaning against the brick wall of a bank in the capital of Kazakhstan, wearing red sunglasses as she eyed the bar across the road, Maggie slid her phone out of her pocket. It had been almost two weeks since her last call to Tony, and she had a few spare moments. She adjusted some settings, then dialled his number.

He picked up on the third ring. "Maggie?"

She leaned back against the brick wall and smiled. "Hey Tony, you okay?"

"I'm fine. You've got good timing, your call just got me out of a very boring board meeting."

"You can always call me back, you know." Across the road, the door to the Corsac Bar opened. Maggie stiffened slightly, but then relaxed when a young couple spilled out onto the street.

"Nah, any excuse to get out is a good one. Why Obie keeps telling me to come to these things, I don't know."

"Might have something to do with you owning the company."

"Ugh," he said. She could hear him glaring, and she supposed he'd realised he wasn't able to trace the call.

A chill wind blew down the street and she pulled her leather jacket tighter around herself. "Nice underwear, by the way," she said. "I saw them on TMZ." Tony had gone skinny dipping in a Vegas fountain with three Miss Universes.

"Thanks, I think I should be sponsored by Calvin Klein for that."

"I'm pretty sure they only sponsor people who look good in their clothes."

Tony laughed under his breath. "You're lucky you're not here, Magnet, or I'd get you back for that. Where are you, anyway?"

_Smooth._ "China, still," she lied. "I saw the Great Wall the other day, it's incredible. Though pretty warm, at the moment."

"You'll have to send me some photos."

"Sure thing." _Right after I edit the timestamp._ "How's Rhodey?"

"He's fine. He's in the building actually, he came to the board meeting to try to convince us to take less money in the next military contract."

"Despicable," Maggie said, trying to swallow her distaste for the change in topic. "How are you going to get _him_ back for that?"

"Haven't decided yet. Might see if I can convince him to join me in a repeat of the Fountain Incident."

"Maybe Calvin Klein will sponsor _him_."

"You wound me, Maggot. Oh, here's Happy." There was a rustle of movement. "Happy, say hi!"

"Who's this?" Came Happy's suspicious voice. "Tony, I've told you not to give your personal number out to strangers-"

"Am I a stranger already?" Maggie asked with a smile.

"Maggie!" Happy said in a brighter tone. "How are you? Had any _almond_ milk recently?"

Maggie pulled the phone away from her ear to laugh. She'd almost forgotten that Happy had given her a 'safe word' when she was a kid, to alert him if she was in any danger. "No, Happy, I'm sticking to dairy. Did you see the Marquez v Barrera match?"

Happy snapped up the conversation starter like a starving man and started gushing about the fight. He had a lot of opinions to share about the referee's calls, and the two fighters' strengths. She wondered vaguely what he would think about her own fighting.

Eventually, Tony batted Happy away from the phone. "As you can see, Happy is fine," he said wryly. "He's looking forward to having you back home."

Maggie's smile faded. She hadn't thought of _home_ in so long. She couldn't even say she missed it, save for the people. The longer her search stretched on, the more she felt as if Maggie Stark slipped into the shadows of this new person she was becoming. These phone calls were her brief moments in the sun.

From Beijing, Maggie had set off on a complex international investigation, which more often than not felt like trying to feel for spiderwebs in the dark. She hadn't gotten far with the Silver Theatre victims' histories, but she had found some potentially promising leads by hunting through the history of Soviet Russia. She travelled completely off the grid now, constructing fake identities and getting more and more practice at forging documents. Today she was Beth Handel, from Ontario.

As she searched, Maggie had begun to make some connections. She had become a shadowy figure on the internet, and ended up in touch with those nameless people who sold and traded in information. The sorts of people who never officially existed, or at least had not officially existed in quite some time.

Maggie stepped into this world with caution. She protected her own identity and safety first and foremost, and was careful with what information she handed out. She didn't go around saying she was looking for a man with a metal arm. Instead she followed clues: cases of unknown assassins, hushed up witnesses, and any reference to red star symbols (she had recalled _that_ detail in another fitful nightmare). She felt as if there was _some_ link to the Soviet Union, but couldn't be sure.

Still, nothing turned up. It felt like pacing through a pitch black house - her fingers were outstretched and she felt as if any moment her fingers would brush against the doorknob, but it was always just out of reach.

One of her connections had let slip a name last week: _Captain Dusan Preobrazhensky._

They had said, in an encrypted message: _If you are curious about experimental Soviet projects, this is your man. He was declared dead in 1994._

Maggie didn't quite understand, but she was pretty sure that particular connection of hers had ties to the GRU, the largest Russian military intelligence organisation, so she did her due diligence and looked into the name. Sure enough she found a death certificate, but after some more digging into the man's financials, she found… inaccuracies. She followed these inaccuracies all the way through to this bar in Kazakhstan.

She still felt wary of the original tipoff. She was sure there was some caveat, especially since she hadn't offered any information in exchange. She _had_ sort of implied that she was an assassin herself, so perhaps this person wanted Captain Preobrazhensky dead.

"Maggie?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. Tony. _Home_.

"I'm here," she said. "Tony, I…" across the street, the Corsac bar door opened again, and the police officer she'd seen enter earlier finally walked out. Maggie tensed. "I have to go. I'll talk to you again soon, though. Stay safe, okay?"

He laughed hollowly. "Sure. Take your own advice, Maggie."

"Trust me, I do. Love you."

She hung up and slid her phone into her pocket, already feeling Maggie Stark slipping back into shadow.

She pushed off the wall and strode across the street. Chewing the inside of her cheek. _I might be in way over my head, here._ She knew she'd been careful, but she was still new to this world of shadows and secrets. She touched the gun inside her jacket (she'd purchased it back in Beijing) and pressed her ankle against the knife in her boot for reassurance. It comforted her that she looked nothing like herself - her hair was silver today, and she had a fake nose piercing and blue color contacts.

At the door to the bar, she drew in a steadying breath. _This is probably another dead end like every other lead._

She pushed open the door, and spotted him instantly. The guy definitely _looked_ like an ex-Soviet Captain. Grizzled and grey, he hunched over a glass of what looked like straight vodka at the bar, wearing a faded bomber jacket with fur lining wrapped tight around him. For a man who'd done quite well at faking his own death, he didn't have much of an eye for disguise.

Maggie strode through the mostly empty room and sat down beside the man at the bar. He went still. He didn't look at her, but she could see him thinking about the handgun in his pocket.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you," she said in friendly (if rusty) Russian. She'd picked up a lot of Russian and precisely no Kazakh - perhaps a symptom of the company she kept.

The man finally turned his dark eyes on her. His mouth was a tight line. "That is just what you would say if you _were_ here to kill me."

Maggie shrugged. "Listen, it's taken me ages to find you, and I've learned that you ex-Soviet types don't like to beat around the bush." The man tensed in his seat. She could see the panic he tried to hide, and supposed that he thought he'd gotten away with his disappearing act.

"I don't care about who you are," she said. "I'm looking for a man."

He eyed her again, and snorted.

"Not that kind of a man," she added. "I'm looking for a man that you might have heard of. He's got dark hair, wears a dark uniform. He lives off the grid, but he's better at it than you." The man was avoiding her eye again, but she knew he was listening closely. "He's also got a metal arm with a red star on the shoulder."

Captain Preobrazhensky locked up in his seat, his eyes going wide and white. His fingers clenched rigidly on his glass.

Maggie felt a thrill run down her spine, and a dizzying rush of exhilaration filled her head. "Good," she murmured. "I take that to mean you know him."

At that, the Captain unfroze. His eyes darted to her face again and he glared. "You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed. "How did you find me?" She opened her mouth, but he stood up abruptly. "Forget about it. Forget me, and leave me the fuck alone."

He stormed out. Maggie blinked, still a bit dizzy from his acknowledgement, before she hopped off her stool to follow him.

She pushed out the door into the sunshine again, only to be met with an empty street. Her stomach dropped. _No._ She took a few stumbling steps, her eyes darting, until she spotted the Captain's bomber jacket disappearing around a far corner. _He's faster than he looks._ Maggie took off into a sprint.

Maggie chased the Captain through the grid of Kazakhstani streets, slowly gaining on him - he was quick, but he was an aging soldier with a fondness for vodka, and Maggie had been fighting her way through Central Asia for the past months. Sure she didn't have her running leg on, but she didn't miss a step.

Her lungs burning, Maggie skidded around another corner, before stopping in her tracks.

Captain Preobrazhensky had taken a wrong turn, and found himself faced with a dead end alley. Now he stood at the end of it, chest heaving, pointing a gun directly at Maggie's head.

Slowly, Maggie raised her hands. "I meant it when I said I'm not here to kill you, Dusan. I know you're angry-"

"Fool girl!" he spat, his expression creased into a snarl. "I'm not angry, I am _afraid_." His fingers clenched on the gun and Maggie ground her jaw. "And you would be too, if you weren't so stupid as to go around asking stupid questions in plain sight."

Maggie tried to force calm into her voice. "Okay. I'm sorry for that. But will you just…" her utter desperation to hear what he knew almost overwhelmed her. She took a few steps forward. "Just tell me what you know about the man with the metal arm. Please. And I'll never bother you again."

"No shit you won't, I'm going to get as far away from here as I can and make _sure_ no one like you can find me."

"So tell me what you know, then there's no harm done."

He shifted his feet, and wiped sweat off his forehead. "I should kill you."

"Well, you know us stupid fool types, I'm likely to end up dead soon anyway." She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, and took a few more steps forward. She softened her voice. "Dusan. The man with the metal arm. Tell me."

He swallowed, and the gun barrel seemed to shiver. "You must never tell anyone I told you this."

She nodded, staring at him. They were just a few feet apart now.

He kept his gun up, and drew in a shaky breath. "I never met him," he said lowly. "Everyone who did is either dead or living in such shadow that their names will never come to light. But I… in my former job… I heard whispers of a weapon. I thought it was a myth. But then a friend of mine was… was crushed to death. By a man with a metal arm." His eyes seemed to glaze over, and Maggie felt his fear prickling in the air around him. "I saw his body. And the friend who told me about the killer fell out a window a week later." He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting.

Maggie could barely breathe. "You know his name."

Captain Preobrazhensky shook his head violently, but Maggie could see the truth in his eyes.

"Tell me," she urged, her voice low and almost monotone.

"The only name I ever heard was… was…" his voice dropped to an almost whisper and she had to step forward into the barrel of the gun to hear it. " _Zimniy Soldat._ "

Maggie let out a long, slow breath.

The Captain nudged the gun against her chest. "Please," he whispered. "Forget me, and let me run."

Maggie couldn't focus on his face - her vision seemed blurry, distant. Her fingers trembled. She stepped aside. The Captain fled. His heavy footsteps echoed down the alley and faded into nothingness.

Alone in the alley, Maggie dropped to her knees and let out a breath that sounded like a sob.

_You are my mission._

Real words, spoken by a real man. A real soldier.

Maggie's fingers curled into fists and her nails bit into her skin. Her teeth clenched together and her eyes were as wide and white as Captain Preobrazhensky's had been. She felt flames licking up from the pit of her stomach, bright and hungry.

_Zimniy Soldat._

_Winter Soldier._

Maggie let out a breath, and it felt like breathing fire.

_You're my mission now._

* * *

Two days later, Maggie called her most trusted contact (not that she really trusted any of them). She'd worked out who this guy was - ex CIA, and more or less legitimate, though he lived squarely in the world of shadows and secrets.

He didn't pick up the first time she rang. She tried again.

This time he picked up in the space of a second. "Who is this?"

"We've been in contact," Maggie said as she stared out her hostel window. She'd installed a voice disguiser on the phone. "You know me as WV3K671."

"Ah, yes," Mr ex-CIA said. He had a surprisingly mellow voice - she was sure he was worried that she'd been able to contact him, but he didn't let it show. "I always think it looks like a license plate."

"I have a question. How much will an answer cost me?"

"Depends if I know the answer or not. I'll let you know."

Maggie cocked her head. "What do you know about the _Zimniy Soldat_?"

There was a long pause over the line. Maggie didn't breathe.

"I'll give you that one for free. That's a myth," he eventually responded.

"Is it?"

"Yes. A bogey man used to explain away any unexplainable assassinations or disappearances. I don't put any more credit in it than I do in the whole Illuminati thing."

Maggie ground her teeth. She was sure that once she had a name, this whole investigation would come to a head. "You've never even wondered?" she prompted.

"Sure I have. Hell, I even had my own bout of curiosity when I was younger. But there's nothing there. Just a popular myth that's mostly fallen out of fashion."

Maggie dropped her head into her hand. _He could be lying_. But how would she know? Where could she go from here?

"Look," the man continued. "Whoever you are, if you've managed to get in contact with me then you're clearly not an idiot. I can respect your skills. I'll be more impressed if I can't track you down after this phone call." Maggie _almost_ smiled. "But I've never heard a credible account of the Winter Soldier. _That_ name only comes from the mouths of madmen and conspiracy theorists."

_Which one am I?_

He continued: "With skills like yours, why are you chasing ghosts? Aren't you working for someone? Because if not, I'll hire you."

Maggie repressed a sigh. "I'll be in touch." She hit _end call_ , then put a knife through the phone just for good measure.

* * *

May, 2007  
Nizhny Novgorod, Russia

Maggie threw herself further into the shadow world. It felt almost like a parallel universe at times: behind the sunny faces of cities lurked dark underbellies, ruled by men and women with fake names.

Maggie built up more contacts and connections, forging a tiny corner for herself in that world. She didn't make a name for herself, since she had no name, but once or twice she had people coming to _her_ for information.

Currently she was Kate Maury of Cape Town, a travel writer with a penchant for ghost stories. Kate Maury had been brought to the busy city of Nizhny Novgorod by a cold case: a government official, her husband, and her elderly mother shot point blank at their dinner table six years ago. Maggie Stark had been brought to Nizhny Novgorod by a suspicion that the murders had been committed by the Winter Soldier. She'd already visited the sites of several other unsolved assassinations, trying to figure out any connection to the Winter Soldier. She was still trying to figure his MO, and if there was a link between his victims, or if he was simply an assassin for hire. Though she was about ready to give this city up.

She'd spent longer than usual here, snooping around the crime scene (with an EMF sensor, for the part), and asking the locals questions. She never mentioned the man with the metal arm, though she asked plenty of questions about the victims' background. All with the same result: nothing.

One evening as she walked back to her hostel after another fruitless day of canvassing local businesses for their old CCTV footage, Maggie realised she was being followed.

It was a cool evening for the season, and as she walked across the Molitovsky Bridge, shivering in the breeze, she noticed the man shadowing her steps about five hundred feet back. He was good, but Maggie was good too, and she'd been expecting something like this for a while. Her skin prickled and her stomach swooped.

As she made her way off the bridge, her nerves zinging, she ran through all the possibilities, very few of which were good. The man, at least, seemed to be keeping his distance. She didn't dare glance around again, but he'd been far enough back last time that she couldn't make out his face.

The air grew darker.

Maggie turned the corner toward her hotel, thinking she might sneak down an alley to watch the man as he walked past, when she heard a footstep behind her.

The man was better than she'd given him credit for. She tried to turn, her heart suddenly pounding, but in another second he was at her back and slinging his hands around her neck. She felt the press of a thin, choking line across her throat and realised he'd wrapped a cord tight around it.

Maggie tried to scream, but couldn't draw in the breath. Her heart juddered and panic flooded her grian. She tried to grip the garotte to get an inch to breathe but the silent man behind her used it to drag her sideways, into an alley. Her boots skidded against the pavement.

When the darkness of the alley fell over her face, Maggie's brain kicked into gear. She let go of the cord at her throat and reached down instead to her ankle, where she yanked the knife out of her boot and brought it up to slice through the cord, nicking her own skin in the same moment.

Oxygen flooded back into her lungs like sunlight, and Maggie spun around to face her attacker, gasping.

_Not the Winter Soldier._

Her memory of the man was faded and distorted, but she could already see that this man's left arm was flesh. Her eyes flicked to his face - pale eyes like shards of glass glinting over a dark scarf - just as he lunged after her. Maggie backpedalled, striking with her knife, and he dodged it deftly. He was _good_. She got in three more swipes before he brought the hard edge of his hand down on her wrist, knocking the blade out of her grip. She brought up her hands to defend herself but he punched her in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. Maggie staggered back.

This was no angry youth in a fight club, not even a principled martial arts expert. As the man lunged at her again, Maggie realized that this was a man trained to kill. She flung her hands up but he preempted her again, slamming full-body into her and knocking her to the ground. Her head cracked against the concrete and she screamed, but he put his hands over her mouth and neck and choked the sound. His body loomed over hers and he leaned his weight down on her neck, his pale eyes burning.

Maggie's choked-off scream echoed in her ears. The man's gloved hands tightened on her throat, crushing her windpipe, and as she spluttered she remembered the sounds Mom had made before she died.

Her vision went white.

Maggie stopped her panicked scrabbling. She grabbed the man's left forearm, and with her other hand gripped his right shoulder. She flung her left leg free and set it against his hip. With his left hip and his right shoulder Maggie _jerked_ him sideways, allowing her to pivot right and fling both legs up and across his body. Her new angle allowed her to lever him to the ground, breaking his grip away from her throat - starbursts exploded in her vision - and landing him flat on his back. She still had his right arm in her grip, with his shoulder between her legs, so she jerked her hips up and drank in the man's scream as his elbow snapped.

Maggie pushed herself away, sliding across the ground, and when the man's pained, shocked eyes flicked up to meet hers she slammed her prosthetic foot into his face. His head dropped to the concrete.

She lurched to her feet, sobbing and choking. The man lay still on the ground, and darkness had fallen over the sky. Maggie got her feet under her and ran.

* * *

The next morning, after a sleepless night of laying false leads, switching through identities and covering her tracks, Maggie got on a flight back to Los Angeles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all having a lovely and safe holidays!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Small mention of suicide, but it's not actually suicide. Message me if you're not sure.

May, 2007  
Los Angeles, USA

Tony stood outside a private airport hangar, his eyes hidden by sunglasses and his hands in his pockets. Pepper and Happy stood side by side near the dark sedan they'd arrived in, watching Tony fidget as he stared at the sky.

When he spotted the charter jet angling down toward the runway he glanced back at Pepper and Happy, as if making sure they could see it too. The minute Tony had gotten Maggie's short message that she was coming back, he'd chartered a flight for the second leg of her journey from London.

The jet circled once before coming down to the runway with a slight judder, the wheels bouncing off the tarmac before taking hold. Tony shifted his weight as the jet wheeled around toward the hangar. It parked outside, and the steps slid down with a barely audible _hiss_.

Maggie appeared in the doorway, blinking in the sunshine. For a few seconds Tony stared at her. She was tanner than the last time he'd seen her, and seemed to be standing taller as she stepped down the stairs. She'd cut her hair, too, so it just brushed her shoulders. She wore faded jeans, boots, a beat up leather jacket, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. A dull green rucksack hung over her shoulder. Tony couldn't imagine going out into the world alone with just a rucksack. He wondered what about it appealed to her so much that she'd been gone six months.

When she hopped off the last step Maggie looked up and spotted Tony standing by the hangar. He waved, but instead of waving back Maggie dropped her rucksack and started _sprinting_ , flying over the distance between them with her hair streaming behind her and a wild grin on her face. Tony grinned and opened his arms a moment before Maggie flung herself at him.

"Oof," Tony complained lightly when she collided with his chest, then wheezed when Maggie wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. He could feel the corded strength in her arms under her jacket, and the smell of smoke and rain hit him. "Welcome home, Maggot." He patted the back of her head when she buried her face in his shoulder. "Damn, you got jacked."

Maggie squeezed him for a moment longer before pulling away, a gleam in her eye. She shrugged. "Can't get enough of the gym, what can I say."

For a moment, Tony looked her over. He didn't know what he'd expected, but Maggie looked… pretty good. Different from the Maggie he was used to, definitely, and a little tired, but she looked _healthy._ "You're okay?" he asked. "No issues with your leg? Are you hungry?"

Her smile widened. "I'm _fine._ Happy to be back. It's so good to see you."

"I hear that a lot," Tony teased, then reached out to put his arm around her shoulder and lead her back to the car. One of the plane stewards brought Maggie's dropped rucksack over with an arched eyebrow.

There was a lot of fuss when they reached the car, with Maggie trying to hug both Pepper and Happy at once and a lot of questions and exclamations being given. Tony didn't know quite what to do with the rush of relief and affection he felt, so he showboated and teased and hastened them all into the car.

Maggie told them all about her journey back as Happy started the car, her voice bright and always ready with a joke. Tony felt, strangely, as if she'd never left. As if she'd always been right here, sitting in his car, making Pepper and Happy smile with a dramatic retelling of how she spilled her in-flight meal. But then he remembered the worry, and the weeks of silence, and the untraceable calls. He frowned.

"So where did you fly out from?" Pepper asked, crossing her legs as Happy drove them out to Malibu. "I know you took this flight from London, but Tony wasn't clear on the first leg."

Maggie's eyes flicked to Tony, but he kept his expression inscrutable. He wasn't clear because he didn't _know_.

"I flew out of Moscow, actually," Maggie said evenly.

"Moscow?" Happy repeated from the driver's seat. "What were you doing _there_?"

Tony eyed Maggie's smile, trying to figure out what it meant.

"Well I wanted to see all the cathedrals, and I figured it made sense to visit in the warmer months so I didn't freeze my ass off. You know they've got a vodka museum in Moscow?"

Tony spent the rest of the car ride torn between enjoying having Maggie back, and trying to figure out why sometimes, her smiles didn't reach her eyes.

At the mansion, Pepper carried Maggie's bag in for her. Tony went to follow, but Happy pulled him aside and levelled him with a _look_.

"Did you see her hands?" Happy murmured.

Tony frowned. "No?" He glanced over his shoulder as Pepper and Maggie disappeared inside the mansion. "Happy, come on, even you have to admit that she hasn't been abducted _now_."

"Well…" Happy's expression became uncertain. "She's… I don't know, I could be wrong, but I only ever saw hands like hers on a boxer. The knuckles, you know? And the calluses."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, Happy, she's been backpacking and drinking for the most part from what I've heard. I'm sure there's plenty of ways her hands ended up like that."

Happy shrugged, though he still looked unhappy, and they headed inside.

Tony watched Maggie rush around the house, beaming at everything she'd missed, and more anxiety melted out of him. Maggie was back, and everything was right.

" _Welcome back, Ms Stark_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. greeted, and Maggie beamed up at the ceiling.

"It's good to be back, J.A.R.V.I.S."

Tony took her down to the workshop to show her the new classic Ford he'd bought and his latest gadgets, though she seemed more interested in hugging Dum-E and U like they were much-beloved family pets. Dum-E plucked at her scarf and she batted him away, laughing.

"You aren't going to take off your scarf?" Tony asked as he dug through a pile of machine parts.

"Why, you don't like it?" she replied lightly.

At that, Pepper strode down to the workshop and instructed Tony to let Maggie rest. He sighed and waved a hand, and Maggie handed him back the engine part he'd been showing her before she followed Pepper upstairs. As she handed him the part, Tony couldn't help but look down at her hands: callused, with a rough edge to the knuckles, and a healed scar over the knuckle of her left forefinger.

He pressed his lips together and looked away. _Could've been anything._ He smiled to himself. _If I believed half of what Happy said about Maggie, I'd have to have her locked up for her own safety._

* * *

Maggie paced into her childhood bedroom, tired down to her bones and her cheeks sore from smiling. When the door shut behind her, the rush of excitement from returning faded. She trudged through to her bathroom.

Eyeing herself in the mirror, Maggie unwound the scarf from around her neck and winced at the sight.

The swelling had gone down and the bruising seemed less vibrant than when she'd bought this scarf in Moscow, but it still looked bad. Patchy purple bruises littered her neck, as well as a single dark line where the garotte had dug in, and a clotted wound from where she'd cut herself free. Groaning, she lifted up her shirt to see the tight purple bruising from where the man had hit her and knelt on her chest. She dropped her shirt, scowling at where she could _see_ the man's fingers had been. She satisfied herself with the knowledge that _his_ injuries would last much longer than hers.

Too tired to think about any of it, she washed her face and crawled into bed. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. She pulled her sheet up to her chin just as the door cracked open to reveal Tony.

"You can tell Pepper I'm going to bed," she said.

"Good." He eyed her for a few moments. She wished she knew what he was thinking. "Need me to tuck you in?"

She smiled. "I'm okay, thank you."

He smiled back, then cocked his head. " _Are_ you okay? You… you came back pretty suddenly."

"Apparently I've got a habit of making impulse decisions."

His lips quirked. "I wonder where you could've got that from."

Maggie wanted to smile, but it turned into a yawn. "Good night, Tony."

"Night, Maggot. Love you."

He shut the door before she could reply.

* * *

Maggie spent the next few days regrouping. She and Tony really didn't talk about anything of substance, allowing her to catch up on sleep at the mansion, and go for long road trips around Los Angeles. Rhodey visited with a broad smile and a bunch of flowers.

For a few days after her arrival she dressed completely wrong for the weather: scarves and turtleneck shirts, until the bruises had faded enough for her to get away with makeup.

Maggie stepped completely out of the shadow world and basked in the sun of California. She remembered what it was to be Maggie Stark, but soon realized that she was not the same woman she had been when she left.

She found she didn't regret anything. She trusted her instinctive urge to run after the events in Russia, and she'd made extra sure that no one would be able to track her back here. The last thing she wanted was to bring Tony into all this. But she didn't think she'd made a mistake in stepping into that shadow world in the first place.

As she sunbathed on the roof, Maggie contemplated her options.

Someone had tried to kill her. Well, to be fair they'd actually tried to kill Kate Maury, South African ghost story writer, for the crime of asking too many questions. No doubt her attacker had been surprised to find that Kate Maury wasn't completely helpless. Maggie suspected that her supposed helplessness and naivety was why he hadn't come after her with a gun, and thanked her lucky (or unlucky) stars.

_I must have been on the right track._

Perhaps she should have tried to question her attacker. But the thought made fear shiver down her metal-plated spine.

Maggie thought about telling Tony about the _Winter Soldier_. She had more proof than the word of a terrified five year old now, but… no. She sighed. The Winter Soldier belonged to a whole other world. Tony didn't belong to that world, and Maggie didn't want it to touch him. She would tell Tony the truth when she had found the Winter Soldier and brought him to justice.

But this had been her world since she was five years old, she realized. And sinking into it had felt a little like coming home.

She should probably have taken the attack as a warning. _Back off._ And being back home again was lovely, but her former path felt… unfinished.

Maggie took a few days to think about it, before finally booking another flight for two weeks time. She was still cautious of going back on her hunt, but… she liked the freedom of travel. She even liked what she was becoming, she thought, though she couldn't say why.

It was worth figuring out.

Tony deserved better warning this time.

Once the flight was confirmed, Maggie waited for Tony to come back from work, and handed him a drink. He eyed her suspiciously.

"What."

Maggie busied herself in the kitchen, making herself a drink. "I've booked my next flight."

He stilled. "You're leaving again?"

She looked up. "Yes. I was thinking of travelling down through South America this time."

He set down his drink with a louder-than-necessary _clink._ "What _for_?"

"Well I hear South America has one or two things a tourist might be interested in."

"And you just want to travel alone? Why?"

She shrugged, glancing down to finish making her drink. "I like it."

"You like being alone, in the middle of nowhere."

_Yes_. Maggie frowned, looking down at her drink, and after a few moments she walked over to wrap Tony in a hug. He stood stiffly in her arms. "I'm okay, Tony. Better than okay, actually. I can look after myself."

He remained as still as a statue for a moment, before he sighed and hugged her back. "You always have."

* * *

Maggie and Tony made the most of their two weeks together.

Tony had already planned a massive party at the mansion for his birthday, and since their birthdays were only four days apart, he turned it into a joint party. And he'd really outdone himself this time: the mansion shone so bright the ocean glinted from it, their guests remained tipsy and happy for the whole of the evening, and the music (curated by one of the best DJs in LA) reverberated in Maggie's bones.

She re-met old acquaintances who seemed surprised to see her, but eager to hear about her 'holiday'. She and Tony cut the cake together, which said _37_ in big digits with ' _& 21_' written in obviously homemade icing below it. Maggie suspected Pepper.

Maggie didn't think she'd enjoyed herself at one of Tony's parties so much before. It felt strange to live so large and loud like this, after the past six months. It felt like looking at her life with double vision.

Was that woman playing drinking games with her brother really Maggie? The same Maggie who'd snapped a man's arm in her hands after he tried to kill her? The same Maggie who traded in secrets and information with ex Soviet agents? She wondered how she had room for all those people inside herself.

At the end of the night, Rhodey kissed her on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Maggie," he smiled. "Thanks for coming back. He's better when you're here." They both looked at Tony, fast asleep on the couch with a penis drawn on his forehead in glitter pen. "You both are."

_That might be so._ Maggie smiled back. _But I'm still leaving._

* * *

While lolling about the house like she used to on spring break, Maggie received an email alert:

_UCLA Guest Lectures: Doctor Jane Foster's 'Astronomy of the Modern Age'_

Maggie arched an eyebrow at the email, then checked the date. "Huh."

The next day found her sitting in one of UCLA's massive lecture halls, watching a short, brown haired woman in a flannel shirt gesticulate while explaining the complex diagram illustrating the mathematical model of spacetime projected on the wall behind her. There were only nineteen people sitting in the lecture hall, including Maggie, but Doctor Foster seemed undaunted.

Maggie sat with her feet propped against the back of the chair in front of her and a gleam in her eyes. However this lecture might have been marketed, Doctor Foster wasn't starting with the basics. She talked through insanely theoretical details about Einstein-Rosen Bridges and spacetime and fourth spatial dimensions. Maggie didn't even understand some of it, which had her grinning in her seat. She'd missed academia. Even though from Doctor Foster it felt a little like a rambling conspiracy theory.

When Doctor Foster's hour came to a close and the blank-eyed students filed out, Maggie approached the small woman gathering up her notes at the lectern.

"Hi," she said, and waited for Doctor Foster to glance up. The woman's eyes flicked over Maggie as if perplexed. "I'm Maggie Stark," she smiled. "We've been emailing for a while, and I saw you were in town-"

"Oh, hi!" Doctor Foster said brightly, propping her notes in one arm so she could shake Maggie's hand. "Yes, I can't believe we're finally meeting. Thanks for coming."

"It's my pleasure. You've made lots of progress in your research since we last wrote. Sorry I've been a patchy replier, I've been… travelling."

Foster waved a hand. "I'm not known for my punctuality either. My boyfriend, Donald, always says I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on."

_Sounds like you could stand to lose the boyfriend_ , Maggie thought, but didn't say. "Would you like to get coffee?"

Foster smiled. "That sounds great."

Having coffee with Doctor Foster felt a lot like sitting in her lecture theatre, but with the pleasant aroma of a cafe. Maggie enjoyed it just as much.

Jane had terrible table manners and drank straight black coffee without seeming to taste it. Each of them hardly drew breath. Maggie had dozens of questions about Jane's ideas and each of Jane's answers only provided her with hundreds more.

"So what do you mean," Maggie asked, when Jane paused for a gulp of awful coffee, "when you talk about stabilising a theoretical negative mass traversable bridge?"

"Well we know that the phenomena could only be stabilised by exotic matter with a negative energy density, and of course _exotic matter_ is sort of a hypothetical stand-in for astrophysicists-"

"Of course," Maggie smiled.

"- so I'm of the opinion that exotic mass is something we've yet to quantify, and it can be theorised about all day long, but we really can't know more about its properties until we _observe_ an event in action, so we can make more concrete predictions about the behaviour of negative mass particles, and the potential existence of tachyons-"

"Hang on, you mean observe an Einstein-Rosen Bridge? They're only speculative."

Jane waved a hand as if the nature of what things did or did not exist didn't matter. "Well I've been working on designing equipment which might be able to measure the events, though I've been having trouble securing grant money to get out there and do practical research with physical equipment, and maybe an assistant or two..."

Maggie let Jane talk on for a while, smiling to herself. She thought it would be easy to call Jane _mad_ , and Maggie didn't wholly understand her, but… she thought she recognised something in her mind. She waited for Jane to take another sip of coffee, then spoke. "Well Stark Industries has a research grant," she said lightly. "They usually prefer their applicants to be working in the field of weaponry" - her gaze dropped - "but if you send a reasonably good application, I'll make sure it gets attention. The grant can take a little while to process, but-"

"No, that's a great idea!" Jane exclaimed, breaking out into a grin. "I'm usually hesitant with private grants, but with that and university funding I might be able to make ends meet on a research trip."

Maggie returned the smile. She had zero idea where Jane thought she could go where she could observe astronomical phenomenon which had not yet been proven to exist, but far be it from her to curb Jane's enthusiasm. "Excellent. Let me know when you apply and I'll contact the Grants team. And hey, if you do end up on a research trip, I'd love an invite. You don't even have to pay me."

Jane beamed. "Of course. It's been wonderful to discuss this. Normally I bounce my theories off Dr Selvig - a friend of my father's - and he always tells me not to set my sights too high."

"Well, I just hope you don't take his advice."

"I take it under advisement." Jane drained the rest of her coffee and Maggie winced in sympathy. "How about you? Back to college? Have I convinced you to join the astrophysics department?"

Maggie smiled and glanced down. "No. Back to travel for me, for now." She looked up. "Though I'll never look at the stars quite the same way."

* * *

Two days before Maggie was due to leave, Tony invited her to lunch. Happy drove them, and Maggie let Tony's conversation wash over her until she realised what part of town they were in. She sat up, looked out the window, then glanced at Tony as Happy took another turn.

"Tony," she said shortly. "You said we were going to _lunch_."

"And we will," he replied, not looking up from his phone. "I just need to grab a few things from work first." He glanced at her. "You may as well come in and say hi to everyone."

Five minutes later Maggie followed a few steps behind her brother as he walked into Stark Industries, feeling much like she used to when she visited as a kid. She cast a glance over at the Arc Reactor building, and tried to draw comfort from its electric blue glow. But it just made the queasy feeling in her stomach worse.

When they first walked in, it was alright. Every employee they walked past greeted Maggie enthusiastically, commenting on her tan and her new clothes and her hair cut, and Maggie had to admit she'd missed them. Stark Industries did hire the brightest minds, after all. But then they walked through an atrium with two floor-to-ceiling display posters advertising the latest Stark weapons, and her stomach flipped over.

She was quiet all the way up to Tony's office.

"Maggie!" came a loud, genial voice, and she looked up to see Obie beaming at her, with Pepper by his side. "What a surprise!" He took three big strides over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "It is _so_ good to see you back, Maggie, especially since we didn't have much of a chance to chat at your birthday party. I really think you should stick around, kid."

She smiled thinly as Obie walked her into Tony's office after Tony and Pepper. "Thank you again for the briefcase, it's beautiful."

"Ah, it's hard to buy presents for you two. What do you get someone who has everything?"

"Maybe some humility," she murmured, then frowned at herself. But it made Obie laugh, and he let her go to retell her joke to Pepper.

Standing in the middle of Tony's office as Tony rifled through his drawers and Pepper smiled at Obie while tapping away at her Blackberry, Maggie looked around at it all. The wall-to-wall window behind Tony's desk looked out over the gleaming, sleek SI complex, awards from the Armed Forces hung on the walls, and diagrams of their best-selling weapons were laid out on the worktable in the corner.

Maggie ran an eye over the efficiency and glamour of it all and wondered how she had ever lasted so long. _I don't believe in this._ She didn't think she ever had. And after living in the world for a time, she could see the lasting impacts of the damage her father's company did. Sure, they didn't invent the concept of war, but they certainly worked hard to make it as bloody as possible. And not even their Intele-Crops or their prosthetics line could make up for that.

Standing in the middle of Tony's office, Maggie confronted herself with the question Tony had never asked, but always seemed to be thinking: _What are you_ _doing_ _?_

She frowned. Even her hunt for the Winter Soldier, that was a personal vendetta. It would impact no one's life other than her own, probably.

She thought of what the ex-CIA agent had asked her. _With skills like yours, why are you chasing ghosts? Aren't you working for someone?_ Maggie flexed her scarred hands. _What_ _am_ _I doing with my skills?_

Maggie had learned so much these past six months, and for what? What could she offer the world, which she had seen so much of? She had her mission, but what else?

She suddenly itched to fly away again, to find what she was looking for. She was sure the answer lay out _there_ , not here.

Tony emerged from his desk drawers with a bottle of bright red liquor. "Aha, I knew I'd left it somewhere in here!" he turned to Maggie with a grin.

Maggie sighed, too tired to tell him off. "Let's go get lunch."

* * *

June, 2007

This time, Tony saw Maggie off at the airport. She'd already said her goodbyes to the others, so it was just the two of them. They talked about nothing of consequence until the polite private airport steward informed them that Maggie's charter jet was ready to leave.

Tony turned to Maggie. "You're sure about this?"

She hoisted her rucksack over her shoulder, her stomach already zinging with nervous excitement, and nodded. "I am, Tony."

He sighed. "Then… have fun. And good luck. I hope you figure out whatever you need to figure out."

She pulled him in for an awkward hug. "Me too."

* * *

July, 2007  
Medellín, Colombia

Maggie was very much enjoying her travels. She'd made a point of spending a few weeks just enjoying seeing the sights of South America, though she'd barely scratched the surface so far. She'd been through Panama, Venezuela, Trinidad & Tobago and was now enjoying the culture and specialty coffees of Colombia.

But, inevitably, she had found herself sinking back into her shadow world. She remained in contact with her connections from before, and continued bartering in the information trade. She was no longer so pointed with her questions, but she still favoured information about Soviet Russia and unsolved assassinations above all else.

She had also taken up her fighting training again, spurred by just how outmatched she had felt against that man in Russia. This time, when she was taught by Capoeira and MMA masters, she did not just appreciate their form and technique. When she sparred, she thought _what would I do if he was really trying to kill me?_ She hoped the next time, if there was one, she'd be ready.

Today she sat at a small coffee shop near her hostel, working on one of her many burner phones and sweating in the sunshine. As was her habit now, she ran a trace on all the surrounding cell towers and ran the results through an algorithm she'd designed to pick up on abnormalities. Paranoid? Definitely. She sifted through the selected abnormalities, sipping her coffee, when she spotted a transmission that her algorithm had labelled _untraceable._ She could guess from the available data that it had been a phone call of short duration, but nothing more than that.

Maggie sat back in her chair, frowning. For some weeks now, in her travel under the name of Maggie Stark, she'd noticed people… not necessarily following her, but _watching_ her. When she first noticed a woman in a Panama restaurant pretending not to watch her, it had frightened her - as if the man from before was somehow back. But this _felt_ different.

She was reasonably sure these people watching her were connected, since this was not the first untraceable call of that nature she'd noticed. And they weren't closing in, but keeping their distance. Keeping an eye on her. She was pretty sure it wasn't constant either. She wondered if Tony had somehow tracked her and assigned her a team of bodyguards, but she doubted he would be that subtle.

Maggie tapped her phone against her mouth for a few moments, before opening it again and digging into the 'untraceable' transmission her algorithm had detected. It was indeed well-hidden, but ten minutes of hard work saw her crack the scrambler her unseen follower was using, and in another minute she'd traced the device. It was currently in the hotel a few blocks away. _So not watching me all the time, then._

She let out a long breath. _I'll wait to see what happens._

At that moment, a shadow fell over her face. She glanced up, startled, just as the shadow passed overhead: an orange sail in the sky. A paraglider; she could see the small dark shape of the person, with their arcing orange canopy above them. Moments later two more paragliders swooped overhead, thousands of feet above the rooftops of the city. Maggie leaned back, shading her eyes, as the paragliders dipped in and out of the air alongside a flock of birds.

Slowly, a smile spread over her face.

* * *

The next morning Maggie hiked up to the top of the mountain overlooking Medellín, found the paragliding company, and handed over her money.

She sat impatiently through the safety briefing, put on all the gear, and soon she sat on a grassy slope overlooking the city below, as her tandem pilot and a few other employees hooked her up to the paragliding harness. The breeze whisked along the mountaintop, plucking at the hair escaping from her helmet. She eyed the red roofs of the city far below, nestled between the forested mountains, and nerves twisted in her stomach. She'd spent countless hours flying before, but always within the safety of a plane cockpit. Metal and engines she understood. But she was about to trust her fate to a sheath of fabric, a few pulleys, and the whims of the air currents. The sun beat down on her pale face.

"Do not worry señora," said her pilot as they laid the chute out on the grass behind her. "Like I tell everyone - if humans were not meant to fly, then why do we love it so much?"

Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but in the same moment she heard the flapping billow of the chute filling with air, and felt the tug of the harness around her chest.

" _¡Aquí vamos!_ " [ _Here we go!_ ] cried the pilot.

Her breath caught in her chest and she ran along the slope with the pilot like they'd told her to, her feet thudding in the grass, until between one step and the next her toes could no longer touch the ground. The pilot whooped in her ear.

Frozen in place, Maggie felt a burst of wind sweep her upwards, and the ground dropped away. She felt suddenly, completely weightless, with the wind rushing around her and the arced red chute tugging her and her pilot up off the mountain and into the sky. Her legs shivered from the sudden weightlessness and her fingers clenched on her chest harness.

A rush of electricity crackled through Maggie as they soared into the air, and she realised every muscle in her body was as tight as a coil. She forced herself to relax, and through her blurry vision she glanced around. Her eyes widened when she saw the city already far below, tiny red-rooved houses with the toy cars meandering through the streets and the green forest hugging the mountains. She drew in a long, deep breath and shivered at the wind rushing over her sun-warmed skin. _This_ _is what I've been looking for._

After the initial rush of gliding off the mountain, their flight became tranquil. Maggie's pilot adjusted the pulleys, steering them in a curve and pointing out the sights below. Maggie stared at everything, the sky and the ground and the taught red canopy which served as their wings. This was nothing like piloting a plane. She paid attention to the pilot's small hand movements and the way he moved his body to steer them through the air.

"Can we do some tricks?" Maggie breathed.

Her pilot laughed. "Of course." He pulled down on one pulley and they curved into a steep turn, almost parallel with the chute. They dipped, and spun, and felt the wind tear across their faces like it was trying to catch them. They swooped up, dipping into the low-hanging misty cloud, and water droplets brushed over Maggie's skin. She spread her arms like wings and laughed at the open sky.

* * *

Maggie climbed back up the mountain every single day after that. She loved all of it: she loved the flap and strain of the paraglider's canopy, sprinting along the grass with the pilot until the wind scooped them off the side of the mountain, swooping up into open air, feeling the wind on her skin, the dizzying rush of weightlessness. Coming back to the ground always felt disappointing, but she even enjoyed setting her feet lightly down to the grass again, as if stepping from the sky to the earth.

Maggie spent her afternoons brushing up on everything she'd ever learned about aerodynamics and flight.

On the fifth day she stared at the pilot's hand movements the whole flight. When they touched down, he hi fived her and said: "You know, we do offer training courses."

When she hiked up the next morning, however, her usual pilot grimaced at her. "Sorry, señora, the winds are too strong today to fly. The forecast is not good for tomorrow either."

Maggie smiled and said it was no bother, but as she hiked back down the mountain her brow was creased by a frown. _I can do better than that_.

* * *

Frustrated by the continued presence of unseen watchers, Maggie moved on from Medellín. She travelled by bus from country to country, never staying anywhere longer than two nights, but still travelling under her real name. On these long bus rides, she started designing.

She started with the basic paraglider design, but its limitations soon frustrated her. The paraglider was essentially the equivalent of a simple sailboat, good for easy seas and skies and nothing more. Maggie wanted a speedboat. She briefly considered going back to jetpack designs like when she was a child, but soon moved on from that as well.

Sitting on a bus headed south through Guyana, Maggie tapped her pencil against her mouth as she stared out the window. She wasn't quite sure why this idle fancy was taking up so much of her headspace. She'd thought of little else since that last day in Medellín. But then she realized that this was the first project she'd taken on since quitting Stark Industries.

She smiled as she stared out the window. She'd wondered if she'd ever come back to engineering, and here it had snuck up on her. _And this isn't a design to hurt people_.

In many ways it was a logic problem: _how can I achieve single-pilot flight without a plane, which won't be subject to the weather?_ But she knew her interest ran deeper than that. Ever since the attack in Russia she had felt like an exposed nerve: sensitive to every aberration and abrasion. She wanted some kind of cocoon, a safety net, something to make her feel strong.

More than anything else, she wanted to _fly._ She couldn't explain why, even to herself.

_If humans were not meant to fly, then why do we love it so much?_

A flock of birds soared out of the rainforest in the distance and into the sky, a blurry cloud of flapping wings. Maggie smiled, but then the expression fell into a frown. _Not birds. Bats._ Their smaller, more angular wings seemed to slice through the air.

The pencil Maggie was tapping against her mouth fell still. Her eyes narrowed.

Moments later, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and started drawing.

* * *

Los Angeles, USA

Tony was really not in the mood to be talking to reporters. He was hungover, he'd accidentally left the house without brushing his teeth, and he just wanted to get his 9AM slice of pizza and then have Happy drive him back.

But as he trudged out of the shop cradling his pizza, while Happy held the door for him, a bright-eyed young woman with a tape recorder jumped in his path.

"Mr Stark, do you care to comment on the rumours that Margaret Stark is in a long-term stay psychiatric hospital? Why is Stark Industries trying to hide this?"

Tony felt the question hit him like a gut punch, instead of his usual wrinkle of annoyance. He slid his glasses down his nose to eye the reporter. She was a little too young, probably a recent hire trying to get big headlines.

"Tell you what," he said evenly. "If you can tell me which hospital she's supposedly living in, I'll go give her a visit."

Happy barged past the journalist, freeing Tony's path, so he made sure his pizza was secure and then followed.

In the car, chewing on a slice of pepperoni, Tony considered. This wasn't the first far-fetched explanation for Maggie's extended absence he'd heard. People would believe anything: Maggie was in rehab, or living under care in the countryside, or she'd actually died and he was covering it up.

In a better mood now thanks to the pizza, Tony texted Maggie: _In addition to being dead, you're now also in a psychiatric hospital. How's the jello?_

Sixteen hours later she replied with a photo of herself, holding a tub of jello in one hand and giving him the thumbs up with another. She looked tanned and happy, and he realised there was a massive waterfall in the background.

He took a few moments to respond:

_They really do amazing things in hospitals these days._

* * *

Manaus, Brazil

Maggie bunkered down in the colorful riverside city of Manaus. She'd been studying bats, birds, and insects for the past few days, and her designs had taken shape. She knew she couldn't leave this plan on the paper.

Manaus, a city well-known for its manufacturing, offered plenty of workshop spaces. She rented a space in a manufacturing centre in a tall building by the river, and started ordering in materials under various false identities.

Her days began to take a pattern: she woke in the early hours of the morning, finished her coffee and toast on the walk over to her workshop, nodded to the other engineers, students, and architects who regularly used the building, then holed herself up in her narrow workspace. Some days she'd have her lunch out in the warm sun, but most days she forgot and worked right through until the sun went down again. She welded and wired and hammered and plated and swore when she burned herself. She lost herself for hours in the intricacies of a circuit board, or the precise alignment of a joint. Occasionally, when other workers on her floor poked their head in to say hello, they'd cock an eyebrow at the strange devices taking shape on her workbench and ask what she was making. Mostly, she told them she was an art student and it was a _postmodernist reflection of the digital world._ That usually got them to leave her alone.

Her days in the rented workshop reminded her strangely of the weeks she and Tony had spent building J.A.R.V.I.S.: the only thing they'd built together that was for _them_ , aside maybe from her prosthetics. She did wish she had Tony's state of the art computer setup (particularly his 3D hologram design portal), but there was something satisfying about going back to basics.

She spent her days surrounded by metal. She could smell it, taste it, feel its cool rigidity and warm flex under her fingers. One of the nosy students on her floor came in, saw most of the finished product (she hadn't been quick enough to hide it) and made a joke about Icarus.

_Icarus?_ Maggie wondered to herself as she tested the cybernetic jointry after shooing away the student. Metal flexed and curved before her eyes. _Icarus had a resource problem: using feathers and wax is grade school stuff. Metal is where it's at._

While Maggie had the materials, space, and tools, she also set about designing herself a new prosthetic. Her last one had gotten all scuffed up from travelling (and from the fight clubs), and the one she wore now was good for walking, but got in her way when running.

This time, she designed a leg that could truly do _everything_ she wanted to do. She built it out of a lightweight titanium alloy, painted charcoal grey, with dual walking and running features. It was lighter than her usual limbs, so it would take some getting used to, but she'd also built in three hidden compartments that could hide anything up to the size of a pistol. Thinking of her attacker, Maggie also built a blade into the heel that could be deployed with the subtlest of movements. _Now I'll never be without a weapon._

Every evening, Maggie packed up her main design and her plans into a canvas bag and carried it home. She still spotted people watching from time to time, and she didn't want snoopers. The first afternoon she tried out her new leg, she detoured through the local park and took great pleasure in secretly stabbing the ground with every step. Soon she could deploy her heel spur with barely a thought.

* * *

August, 2007

Maggie had not thought about what would happen when she actually _finished_ building her device. But sure enough she did, and found herself staring at it in disbelief.

It rested, fully open on her worktable, spanning from one end of the room to another. Maggie reached out and ran a hand over the smooth black surface of the carbon fibre membrane. Tiny wires ran through the thin layer, like blood vessels.

This was the most intricate design Maggie had ever attempted. Even more shocking than the fact she had finished, she thought, was the fact that it looked like it would _work._

She touched a button and the device completely closed up, smooth and soundless.

She glanced out the window. Night had fallen, and there was no moon tonight. She bit her lip. _This is a bad idea._ She glanced back at the device sitting on her workshop, so simple-looking but with so much advanced tech in it that Maggie wasn't sure she could put a price tag on it. Some of the things she'd done with it had never been attempted before.

She looked back out the window. _Oh no, this is a_ _great_ _idea._

The night air clung hot and thick to Maggie's skin as she stepped out onto the building's rooftop, twenty stories up. It was a flat, gravelly expanse with a water tower at the end, all of it cast into darkness. The city stretched out below, warm and glowing, save for the dark swathe of the river to the west.

Feeling her hair curl in the humidity, Maggie slowly pulled on her newest creation. It looked like a compact metal backpack once she'd cinched the harness around her chest, and felt deceptively light. She swung her arms around a few times to get used to the harness, then pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves. The gloves communicated wirelessly with the device, though they felt slightly stiff on her hands due to all the tech woven through the fabric.

Maggie cleared her throat and closed her eyes. Nerves zinged through her body, though she couldn't quite explain why. _I'm just up here to run some minor tests_ , she told herself. She let out a shaky breath and braced her legs.

She slowly clenched her fists, and in almost the same second the device strapped to her back came alive. With the faintest of hums metal slid outward, stretching away from Maggie's back and out to either side of her like unfurling limbs. She opened her eyes and saw the dark gleam of metal out of the corner of her eyes.

In the space of three seconds the device had fully deployed. Maggie stood in the middle of the rooftop, breathing, staring at the two large, black wings that stretched wide to either side of her. They hung like the deepest shadows of the night, massive and inhuman.

A breeze washed over the rooftop, catching at the wings, and Maggie gasped. The right wing dipped momentarily as she lost concentration, before she corrected it with a twitch of her fingers.

Maggie locked the wings' position so she could bring her hands to her mouth to stifle her sudden laugh. _It worked._ She turned in a circle, admiring the metal limbs sprouting from her back. They were beautiful: each wing had a rigid metal skeleton made up of telescopic 'bones': a long arching one at the top edge, with five phalanges stretching down and ending in a sharp point. Carbon fibre webbing stretched between the phalanges, lightweight but durable. Engines were built into the end of each phalange, and a whole forest of internal wiring and connectivity stretched along the wings like veins, blood vessels, and nerve endings. Each wing stretched out ten feet to either side of her. They were angular like a bat's, with a wingspan only matched by long-extinct dinosaurs.

She reached out to stroke a finger along the top ridge of her left wing, as far as she could reach. The metal felt cool against her skin, but _alive_ \- she wasn't sure if it was all in her head, but she thought she could feel the microscopic thrum of each small correction and communication through the wing, like a living being's unconscious biological functions.

"Hello there," Maggie whispered. The wing swayed slightly in the breeze, then corrected automatically to keep balance. She beamed.

She closed and opened the wings once more, feeling them bunch up close to her back before stretching wide again. She closed her eyes at the feeling of it.

These wings were like the paraglider, really: an aid for flying, something to be strapped into. But they felt like _more_. Maggie had designed each joint and particle of these wings, and she knew them inside and out. She knew the relays of information running through them. The weight of them at the small of her back felt grounding, as if all this time she'd been drifting, unable to set foot on the ground. But now she felt solid, and real. She felt as if something inside her had clawed its way free.

Maggie ran a few tests with the hand controls in her gloves, experimenting with manipulating the wings, twisting and stretching them. Her fingers twitched and danced, and in response her wings changed pitch, angle, and degree of contraction. All perfectly scientific, though it felt like magic.

The hand controls were not how Maggie intended to use the wings forever. The harness strapped to her back was equipped with low-beam infrared sensors which could 'see' every twitch and movement of Maggie's muscles, and read the data going through the wires and plates in her spine, from her childhood surgeries. She'd worn an open-back shirt so the harness could read her more easily. The metal pressed against her flesh. She'd gotten the idea from Stephen Hawking's speech translation device. It would take time, but she hoped that she could train her wings to read and learn her body, just as she would have to learn the wings. By training the mechanical to read the biological, she hoped she would be able to control the wings with just a thought.

Satisfied that everything was in working order, Maggie clenched her fists again and the wings retracted into the small, strange-looking metal lump on her back. She reached up to unclip the metal harness, but then her eyes caught on the black curve of the river in the distance.

_I really shouldn't._

The gloves on her hands seemed to tingle, and she felt the coiled strength of the wings at her back. Now that she had felt them, had seen them arcing away from her spine, Maggie could not think of them as _the device_ any longer. They were two more metal limbs, and she felt their phantom absence when they were gone.

Almost unconsciously Maggie moved toward the edge of the rooftop. The city seemed to expand beneath her, warm and inviting. She tilted her face up and felt the hint of a breeze on her skin. The distant glimmer of stars looked like an invitation.

Her toes grazed the edge of the rooftop, and a bolt of electric nerves ran down her spine.

A strange, errant thought drifted through her mind: _All my life, I have been waiting for this moment._

She put one foot out into open air-

" _Ms Stark_!"

Maggie flinched and stumbled back a step from the roof edge, spinning around.

By the roof entrance stood a man in a dark suit, with one hand stretched out toward her and his eyes wide. His chest rose and fell sharply, as if he'd been running.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. She didn't recognise the man. His suit was a little too professional for the kind of people she'd seen in the building, and she could see a bulge in his jacket pocket which she knew meant _gun._ Her eyes darted to his face.

The man met her eyes as he caught his breath. "You… you don't want to do this, Ms Stark." His eyes flickered to the roof edge. "We can talk about this."

Maggie let out a breathy laugh. _Oh._ The wings were folded back up into the metal pack on her back, so she could imagine what this looked like.

She didn't know this man, or how he knew her name, or why he was here (though she suspected he was one of the people who'd been following her from a distance). But something about his sudden appearance gave her the last bit of courage she needed.

Maggie smiled, took a step back, and tumbled backwards into darkness.

* * *

Agent Meyer of S.H.I.E.L.D. ran to the edge of the rooftop, his heart in his mouth and his hand still outstretched. Christ, if only he'd known the surveillance target was a suicide risk…

He peered over the edge, squinting in the darkness, but couldn't make out anything.

"Shit."

He turned and ran back the way he'd come, pounding down the fire stairs. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He burst out into the night air again on the ground floor, and sprinted to where - to where…

To where there was _nothing_. The ground below where Ms Stark had jumped was a shadowed pavement and a bit of lawn, but they were completely empty. His brow furrowed. He turned in a few circles, checked the nearby bushes, but still nothing.

He finally answered his buzzing phone. "Boss. Yeah, yeah, I like I said" - he paused to catch his breath - "I did the hourly check and she'd gone to the roof. Yes, and she _jumped_!" he wiped his forehead as the voice on his phone got significantly louder. "No. I don't know what the hell happened, but she's not dead. She's _gone_."

If Agent Meyer had thought to look up, he might have noticed the silhouette of black wings that flashed over the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all next year!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

August 2007  
The Amazon Rainforest

Maggie plummeted in a freefall through open air, the wind tearing at her face and drawing tears from her eyes, though she could still see the thick expanse of green rainforest rushing up to meet her. She opened her hands and felt the air stream through her fingers, almost as substantial as water. The world hurtled toward her, threatening a sharp and painful death.

When all she could see was green she arched her back and two great black metal wings sprang out to either side of her, scooping up the air and flinging her back into the sky. Maggie whooped at the top of her lungs and twisted, and her engines kicked up and shot her straight upwards, up into the thin layer of cloud the sun hadn't burned away yet.

She levelled out, breathless, her body streamlined and her wings curved to catch the thermal currents rising from the rainforest. The sun shone down on her wind-chilled skin, and Maggie flipped over to feel its warmth on her face as she coasted over the tops of the clouds. She shouted at the sky, safe in the knowledge that there wasn't another living soul around. For miles and miles, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but forest.

She didn't need the hand controls anymore. Maggie had been out here in the middle of the Amazon for a week, doing little else other than sleeping, eating, and flying. She'd never enjoyed anything like she did rocketing into the air and soaring and twisting and falling until the sun went down. She kept expecting to grow tired of it. But each morning she woke she couldn't wait for the burn of her engines and the feeling of stepping into open air. It was like paragliding and riding her motorbike and flying jets and trampolining and jumping off a cliff all at once.

The wings responded effortlessly to her minute muscle movements now, and it felt like they could read her mind. Over the week they felt less like foreign objects strapped to her back, and more like her prosthetic leg did: a part of her. Removable, yes, and made of metal, but somehow tied to her heart.

Maggie slipped below the clouds again, feeling their chill condensation brush over her skin. She banked sideways, and her tiny shadow hundreds of feet below crossed over the glinting twist of a river. She grinned and tilted downward, feeling the wind pressure judder over the surface of the wings as she picked up speed on the way down. Her feet stayed pressed together behind her, streamlining her in the air.

When she could hear the rush and gurgle of the river she levelled out, following the winding path of it as she looked down at her own distorted reflection: a dark silhouette against the sky, a bird of prey poised to strike. She grinned and reached out, inching closer until her fingers trailed against the surface of the water, kicking up a spray behind her.

She'd had so many ideas for improvements ever since she jumped off that building in Manaus. She'd taken a toolkit with her into the jungle so she'd been able to make a few, but the rest remained just dreams for now. She had thought briefly about the idea she'd had years ago to create artificial sensation in her prosthetic leg, before shaking it away. That might be playing too much with the rules of nature.

Though the rules of nature felt very much in her grasp as she rocketed along the gleaming river in the middle of nowhere, the sun on her back and the wind in her hair. She twisted in a tight spin, maintaining her course along the river, and blue and green and white blurred together in her vision. Her wings kicked up water spray that dashed against her face. She kicked out her new heel spur and lowered her prosthetic leg to the water to cut a line along the river.

Grinning to herself, Maggie lifted her chin and soared once more back into the sky.

* * *

Pucallpa, Peru

After her week of wildness, Maggie returned to civilization again. With her slowly improving Spanish she got herself a job at a local garage in a small river city so she had easy access to tools and parts. It rankled to not be able to fly every day, but she wore her wing pack whenever she could, usually under a bulky jacket, and snuck out at night to go flying in the darkness. In the day, when she was left alone, she tinkered with her wings, her gloves, and stole a pair of goggles to keep the wind out of her eyes. Her boss had a beautiful wife and a fondness for drink, so once he was sure Maggie knew her way around an engine he usually left her to her own devices.

She'd hoped that her week of going dark had shaken off her distant-if-concerned followers.

But then a man came to her garage.

The minute she saw him she knew something was different. He showed up in the passenger seat of the regular tow truck, with a dark sedan in tow. She didn't see many cars like that around here. Then he got out, and she instantly knew he was an outsider. He was foreign, like her, though she did see a few tourists around these parts. The man wore a dark suit, and when he approached Maggie his expression was open, polite, and slightly sheepish. His mouth was close-lipped and not quite smiling.

"Hello," he said in English, and held out his hand. "My car broke down on the way in and I'm in need of a repair, I'm afraid."

"No worries," Maggie said as she shook his hand, still eying him to try to figure out what was different about him. He seemed polite, if a little bland. She directed the tow truck to push the man's car into her work bay. She could feel the man taking in her own appearance: dark blue mechanic's overalls, grease on her hands, and her hair dyed a dark blonde (her ends were still a bit frizzy from the bleach).

"I'm Phil," the man said, his lips twitching into something more like a smile. He spoke with a soft American accent. "Phil Coulson."

Maggie glanced at him as the tow truck driver unhooked the car. "Call me Em." She jerked her head toward the front office. "You can take a seat in there if you like while I figure out what the issue is. It's air conditioned in there." She couldn't imagine that suit was keeping him cool.

Phil Coulson's expression didn't shift. "Oh, I don't mind the warm weather." He followed her into the relative shade of the garage.

Maggie's nerves were prickling, but she didn't know how wary to be. Mr Coulson certainly _seemed_ pleasant, but everything about this had her gut churning.

Still, she'd play the part. She wiped her hands on the towel sticking out of her pocket, shot Mr Coulson another glance - he stood by the entrance, watching her - then popped the hood of his car.

"So what did you say the problem was?" she asked, glad the hood kept a barrier between them.

"I pulled over on the way in to take a photo, and then the engine wouldn't start again."

"Hm." Maggie scanned the engine, running a mental checklist, before her eyes snagged on the battery. The leads had been cut through.

Maggie slammed down the car hood and rounded on Phil Coulson. "Alright, cut the shit. What's going on?"

To his credit, he didn't try to call her bluff. He just smiled thinly, his hands clasped in front of him and apparently unbothered by her flare of anger. "I know who you are, Ms Stark."

"I figured." She fought not to let her eyes flick to the tarpaulin across the garage which covered her wing pack. "You're one of the people who've been following me?"

His expression didn't crack. "Yes."

"Who are you? Really?"

He drew in a breath. "My name really is Phil Coulson. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

Maggie shot him a hard look.

Coulson seemed amused. "I am sorry about the subterfuge, Ms Stark, but when you popped back up on our radar I wanted to speak to you face to face." He paused, as if waiting for her to explain how she'd jumped off a roof and survived, but she pressed her lips together. "We've been keeping an eye on you, because frankly I think we could be of mutual benefit to each other."

"Do you."

"Yes." Coulson took a few paces toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. She didn't move. "Last year you quit your prestigious job at Stark Industries and left the country to live as a drifter."

"Observant, aren't you." Her mind raced.

"You're aimless," he said blandly. Her eyes narrowed. "Drifting. Searching for direction. We can offer you direction, Ms Stark." He paused, polite as ever.

A silence stretched on, and Maggie realised that Coulson wanted her to ask _what kind of direction?_

Her gaze dropped, and she thought about it. She still knew very little about Coulson, or about his Division which she'd never heard of, other than the fact that they'd been following her, and they wanted her to work for them. But he hadn't mentioned anything about the less than savoury things she'd been up to while 'drifting', so maybe he didn't know about that. So why would he go to all this effort to track her down and recruit her?

_Oh._

Maggie straightened and looked Coulson in the eye. "Thanks, but I'm done with other people giving me direction. You want weapons? Stark Industries is open for business." Coulson opened his mouth to reply, but she marched to the garage entrance and interrupted him. "Allow me to offer _you_ direction, Mr Coulson." She gestured pointedly out the door.

Coulson eyed her for a few moments. If he was surprised or angry, she couldn't tell. Finally he bowed his head and walked to the door.

"Someone will be by for the car later today," he murmured, and Maggie spotted another black sedan at the far end of the road. She glanced back, and realized Coulson was offering her a card.

She took it and read it over, but it was just a number. No name, no other details.

"You've got our number if you change your mind," Coulson said pleasantly, and then walked up the drive and down the road to meet his ride.

Maggie watched him go, a heavy scowl on her brow, then slammed the garage door shut.

Maggie didn't wait around to see who picked up the tampered-with sedan. She called her boss to hand in her notice, then packed her life (and her wings) into her rucksack again.

She hadn't tried to hide from her followers before, too curious to see who they were. But now she knew she wasn't interested.

Maggie vanished that night, and made sure she didn't leave a single clue for Phil Coulson and his Division to follow.

* * *

September, 2007  
The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

"Come in, Agent."

Phil Coulson opened the door to Fury's office and walked in, nodding at his boss.

Nick Fury stood silhouetted by the plate glass window of his office, imposing as ever with his dark outfit and eyepatch.

"Hello, Director," Phil greeted.

Fury flicked his eye over him. "You got a tan."

"I did, sir. It's sunny in Peru this time of year."

Fury nodded, then arched an eyebrow.

Phil knew his nonverbal cues well by now, so he cleared his throat and got started. "I'm not sure what she's up to, sir." He paced over and handed Fury a data stick, which Fury plugged in to his computer. Images of Margaret Stark popped up on the screen: sitting at a coffee shop wearing sunglasses, drinking cocktails at the beach, shaking hands with a paragliding instructor, signing in to a building in Manaus. They hadn't managed to photograph whatever it was she'd been working in there, nor had they been able to guess from the materials they'd spotted her with. Phil's lead agent theorized that she was just tinkering: _she's cut off from all her fancy toys back home, and she is an engineer. She's probably just trying to keep her hand in._

Fury eyed the images. "What happened with the suicide attempt?"

"Still not sure," Phil said. "But Agent Meyer is sure she jumped, and I'm sure I saw her without a mark on her. It's a head-scratcher. As is her current whereabouts."

Fury's eye flicked up to look at Phil. "You can't track her?"

"Not reliably. Either she's so aimless that we have no idea where she's going, or she's very good at evading our notice." He cocked his head. "I think I overplayed our hand by revealing that we've been watching her and keeping tabs."

Fury frowned. "She's as brilliant as her father, isn't she? And her brother?"

"Early indications did point that way, sir. But she hasn't been doing much worthy of comparison in some time."

"She could be changing the world."

Phil shrugged. "It appears she's chosen not to."

"And we can't bring her in?" Fury steepled his fingers. "Surely there'd be something to tempt her. She could be a significant asset for SHIELD, we need all the help we can get with the Tesseract-"

"I only had a short conversation with her, but she made it pretty clear she wasn't interested. After a lifetime of being built up to become a genius inventor I can understand the impulse to take a break."

Fury gave him a look. "Can you."

"Yes sir. My recommendation is that we still keep an eye on her. But unless something happens, we wouldn't be able to bring her in without force."

"Well then. We'll have to wait to see if something happens." Fury unplugged the data stick and handed it back.

"Alright. I'll start a file."

Fury huffed. "She's had a file since the minute she was born, Coulson. But I think it's about time we started adding to it."

* * *

Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia

Maggie went back on her hunt. She had a good network of connections in the shadow world now, and she knew more about how the Winter Soldier worked, which made searching for clues easier. Whoever he was, the Winter Soldier worked quickly, silently, and fatally. His _missions_ often seemed like nothing more than a violent accident, or a case of blatant assassination with no clues as to the culprit. However, patterns began to emerge: whenever there were ballistics left at a crime scene they tended to be Soviet-made casings, with no rifling to distinguish a weapon. He usually opted for long-range killing, and it was clear he was a one-of-a-kind sniper. Soon enough, the lack of rifling became enough of a sign.

She kept trying to profile him, or describe him, but his only distinguishing feature was his metal arm. None of the other cases she thought she could link to him held any sign of emotion, or failure. She couldn't even pin down his age, or decide definitively if a certain case had been his handiwork, since cold-case assassinations with zero evidence stretched back decades.

Maggie never found a witness, and she never found any footage, DNA, or photographs. The only living witness that she knew of, in fact, was herself. The more she learned about the Winter Soldier, the more she realised how lucky she was to be alive. He _never_ failed in a mission. So what had been different about her?

Her hunt had brought her to Bolivia as she thought there might have been a case tied to the Winter Soldier in this city about thirty years ago. She thought she was pushing it with the time range, but perhaps this assassination (of a local scientist) had been at the start of his career.

The main _Cuerpo de Policía Nacional_ [ _National Police Corps_ ] department here had a file on the case, but the notes were typed up on a computer system that she couldn't easily hack from the outside. So here Maggie was, dressed as a cleaning lady, breaking into a police station.

She strolled in like it was just another day of work, her face angled away from the camera and her posture stooped. She did a bit of sweeping in the hallway, to play the part, and when she swept her way into one of the bullpens (the sign on the door said FELCN, which she was pretty sure was the narcotics taskforce) she slid her phone out of her pocket and cloned it against a nearby computer. Broom in one hand and phone in the other, she flicked through the department's cold case files until she found the one she was after, and set it to download.

She kept one ear on the conversations in the busy bullpen as the file downloaded. She changed their trash can liners while she was at it.

"... FBI keeps calling," she overheard as she tied off the trash can at the far end of the room. The speaker was a dark-haired man with tired lines in his face.

"Andrew Choque?" guessed his partner, an older woman with sharp eyes. Maggie checked her phone. _70%_. Goodness, the download speed here was slow.

"Yes. They think because his ex girlfriend's from round these parts he'll come back. But luckily for us he caused most of his trouble elsewhere, and I hope it stays that way."

The partner huffed. "It's not like we'd be able to find him, if all of that lot can't. These rich men never get found, no matter how many children they kill."

Maggie's phone buzzed in her pocket, indicating the file had been downloaded, and she made her way to the exit. But she left the department with more on her mind than the Winter Soldier.

* * *

Back in her tiny room, Maggie read over the file. Clean gunshot to the head from hundreds of feet away, no bullet casings. The bullet itself was too disintegrated to be of use. The victim was a prominent neurobiologist who'd been set to present at a conference later in the month. No one saw the shooter, and no one knew why the man had been killed.

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. _Another one for the_ _maybe_ _pile._

She sat back in her seat and glared at the roof. She had a few more leads to follow up elsewhere, but… again, the nagging feeling that she was on some useless personal crusade crept up on her. Her brow furrowed, and she went back to her computer screen.

She didn't really _mean_ to start researching the man the Bolivian police officers had mentioned. She'd just wanted to look him up to see what he'd done. But then she learned about him.

Andrew Choque was American, born and raised in Boston, but at a young age he'd rocketed to the top of an international narcotics organisation. That was only the beginning of it though. Maggie's stomach churned as she read through the news articles. After months of fishing for any shred of evidence about the Winter Soldier, the blatant and widespread proof of Choque's work was almost overwhelming.

He'd turned his organization toward the more profitable business of human trafficking: stealing men, women, and children from their families and selling them into the shadow world. He'd used children as drug mules, and the FBI had evidence that at least six of these children had died as a result. Maggie looked at their faces.

When she looked into his personal life, it became clear that Choque was, if not a psychopath, at least a sadist. He left a string of abused and traumatised women behind him. One of them had been blinded.

Choque had been briefly caught by law enforcement in Ecuador, but escaped after killing a police officer and a civilian and had been on the run ever since.

Maggie read everything she could find about the man into the early hours of the morning, then went to sleep with a cold pit in her stomach.

* * *

To her own irritation, Maggie could not leave it alone.

For the next few days as she figured out her next move in her Winter Soldier hunt, she instead found her time occupied by research into a man she had never met. She pored over all available information about Choque, his very existence nagging at her. Why could she not leave this alone?

On the second day, Maggie pulled away from another article with a laugh. Who was she to become some kind of private investigator when not even the FBI could find this man?

 _Keep yourself to yourself_ , she decided, and reached to close her laptop. But her fingers hesitated at the edge.

The words of her ex-CIA connection echoed: _With skills like yours, why are you chasing ghosts? Aren't you working for someone? Because if not, I'll hire you._

Maggie eyed the picture of Choque on her screen: a handsome mid 40s man with olive skin, dark eyes, and styled hair.

She had made so much progress in a hunt for a ghost. _But this one isn't a ghost. He's just a man_. Maggie cocked her head. _Maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit._

She stretched her fingers and set about hacking in to the FBI.

* * *

Mar del Plata, Argentina

Three days later, Maggie sat by the window of her hotel room in the tree-lined resort city, her laptop on her knees and her gaze fixed out the window.

The FBI file had had a whole lot of information in it, but they had hit a dead end. They'd looked into all Choque's known addresses, into his family, even into his string of girlfriends and ex-girlfriends. None had heard from him in weeks, and the FBI and about three other intelligence agencies were still surveilling them to be sure. Maggie didn't have the resources to stake out everyone close to Choque, but she did have a mind for research. And regular people left behind much easier clues than ghosts.

On a whim, Maggie had looked into the _families_ of the women connected with Choque. There was a lot of ground to cover, a lot of it very boring. But then Maggie had noticed an irregularity.

Choque's ex girlfriend of about three years, a woman named Maria, had a younger cousin called Fiona. And as of two weeks ago Fiona had quit her job, cancelled her lease, and booked a one way ticket to Argentina.

Maggie had tugged on the thread. Fiona was hard to track after her arrival in Argentina since she used cash, but she used a coffee rewards card a few times and soon Maggie had figured out which hotel Fiona was staying in. She'd hacked into the local CCTV around the hotel and… _holy shit_. There was Andrew Choque, tan with dyed blonde hair, walking out of the hotel lobby arm in arm with Fiona. Alone in her room in Bolivia Maggie had frozen the frame and let out a whoop of discovery, before slowly coming to a realization.

She had _no_ _idea_ what to do with the information she'd just uncovered. Logic said call the local authorities. But after days of looking into Choque, she wasn't fooled by his genial expression. She knew how quickly he would run if he got the slightest inkling of being followed. He would kill that young, stupid woman in a heartbeat if it would help secure his freedom. And she knew that the FBI wouldn't be able to walk into Argentina at a moment's notice.

No matter who Maggie told about her information, they would have questions for her. They might even want her to do it again. And the idea of being used made her skin crawl.

She had even considered calling the number Phil Coulson had given her - he clearly belonged to some kind of intelligence organisation, and they might have been able to help her. But she didn't trust Phil Coulson as far as she could throw him.

Before she knew it, Maggie was on a bus to Argentina. And now here she sat, in a hotel room across the road from Fiona and Choque's hotel, staking them out. She kept telling herself this was just like when she found Captain Preobrazhensky in Kazakhstan. But she'd only wanted to _talk_ to Preobrazhensky.

Maggie had been watching the hotel for a day. Choque and Fiona didn't come out of the building much, but they'd just walked up the road to the coffee shop. Two men had followed them at a distance, and at first Maggie thought that maybe someone else was tailing the fugitive, but then Choque had nodded to one of the men. _So he hasn't just got Fiona for company, then._

She caught a glimpse of blonde hair and spotted the couple again, returning with two takeaway cups and a paper bag. Choque was handsy with Fiona, smiling and flirting, and Fiona reached up to ruffle his dyed hair with a laugh. Maggie covered her mouth, three stories up and her eyes fixed on the pair. She could see the way Choque's eyes darted around at his surroundings even as he flirted. He wasn't an idiot.

They strode together through the sliding doors of their hotel. One of their bodyguards followed them through, and the other stationed himself by the door with a cigarette.

Maggie ran a hand through her hair. "What am I doing?"

The sun began to set over the city, and a fresh sea breeze blew down the street. Maggie's knee bounced as she sat, eyeing the hotel across the road and her mind churning. _I should just call the FBI. Or drop an anonymous tip_.

Her mouth turned down. _But how long would it take them to get here? Who's to say Choque and Fiona won't change locations again tomorrow? What if someone gets hurt?_

Darkness crept through her room, and Maggie finally tore her gaze away from the hotel. Her eyes instantly landed on the strange-looking metal pack on her table. She let out a breath.

 _Hell, I_ _know_ _why I came here._ Her eyes darted back to the hotel. _And I know I can do it._

The formations of a plan had already been germinating in her subconscious mind throughout the day. Acting on that plan took a frighteningly short period of time.

First she called Tony. It was about time for their fortnightly chat, and she wanted to hear his voice. He did a lot of talking but she had trouble focusing on it, since she was working on her laptop at the same time. Still, he made her smile.

When they hung up, full darkness had fallen.

Maggie checked the hotel CCTV, and her lips quirked as she spotted Fiona walking down a corridor in a bathrobe. The hotel had a free spa package award program which it awarded every day, and with a little manipulation of their lottery software Maggie had made Fiona today's lucky winner. She was glad Fiona had decided to take the package tonight, because her Plan B was a bit messier.

Maggie flicked through the CCTV and frowned when she saw that Choque's second bodyguard still stood at his hotel room door. _Damn._ She'd hoped he would follow Fiona. No matter.

Maggie hoisted on her wing pack, slid open the window, and jumped out into the night.

Maggie dug her toes into a crevice on the side of the hotel as she carefully reached down for another handhold. She tried to remember everything her old gymnastics teacher had taught her about firm grip and balance, though Ms Sato had never taught her how to scale the side of a building.

The night had grown cool, the air filled with the sounds of chirping insects and murmured conversations. Maggie had worn dark clothes to blend in with the dark brick of the hotel building, and kept her engines at a minimum of noise when she'd hopped over to the other rooftop. Her fingers were white from clinging to each narrow ledge and crevice.

She reached the fifth floor, gritting her teeth against the strain in her arms, then shuffled across the narrow ledge to room 507's window. She peeked through, but couldn't see anything, so she reached across and found the bottom of the screen with her fingertips. _Please be open._

The screen slid up with a slight squeak, making her wince. A thrill went down her spine. Her skin prickled as if there were a thousand eyes on her, and her gut churned. She'd never done anything like this before. She was very aware she was about to climb into the room of a killer.

Holding her breath, Maggie swung her legs through the window and slid into the room, her feet landing soundlessly on the floor.

She crouched in darkness, her awareness crackling. She'd slid into the bedroom. She could hear the TV playing in the main room, some kind of game show, but no movements to suggest that she'd been overheard. She rose to her feet and slowly, silently opened the bedroom door, ready to spin out of the way of a bullet.

Warm orange light spilled into the bedroom. Maggie peered out into the main room where she could see the TV, and a sofa facing it, turned away from the bedroom door. The back of a man's head poked up from the sofa, slightly balding at the back. A curl of smoke rose up from his head, and a tan hand reached for a glass of whiskey.

Maggie felt like there were snakes in her stomach as she stared at the back of Andrew Choque's head. She glanced around for any mirrors through which she might be seen, then crept across the carpet. She felt as if the man on the sofa should be her whole focus but she felt stretched out, her awareness filling the room and beyond. Her ears strained for any sound: the bodyguard at the door, police sirens, or any small suggestion that something might get in her way. People on the television laughed. She could see individual strands of hair on Choque's head.

The floorboard creaked beneath her foot.

Choque froze and began to turn, his hand flying for his hip. But Maggie was faster. She darted forward and cinched her arm around his throat in a sleeper hold, squeezing tight against the sides of his neck. She slammed her other hand over his mouth just as he drew in a breath to shout, and swung her leg over the back of the couch so she could drive her foot into the hand reaching for the gun in Choque's pocket. He cried out against her hand, struggling and kicking. He lurched sideways and Maggie's heart leapt - he was _strong._ But she held him fast, half-straddling the couch, her months of practice with this hold finally paying off.

Choque scrabbled at her black-clad arm, trying to pull her away, and when he tried to twist his head she saw his eyes bulging. With one last-ditch effort he lurched again, and succeeded in pulling Maggie over the back of the couch.

They both toppled to the ground with a muted thud, and Maggie drew in a sharp breath. He wriggled like a fish now, going red against the pressure on his neck. Maggie wrapped her legs around his torso like a vice, immobilising his arms against his chest, and his legs flailed like an electrocuted man's. Seconds later his kicking legs drooped and stilled. His head thunked to the ground.

Maggie held him for a few seconds longer, to be sure, then unwound herself from him. On her knees on the carpet she glanced over at the door - no sound, thank goodness - then back to Choque. He was a burly man, thick around the arms and with a strong build. His face was still bright red and his eyes shut.

Maggie reached into her jacket pocket and grabbed the needle she'd stored there, in a protective case. She'd stolen the needle and its contents a few weeks ago, in case she ever needed to treat herself for an injury she didn't particularly want to explain. She hadn't imagined using it for _this_. She found a vein in Choque's arm, slid the tip of the needle in and then pressed down on the plunger. After a minute Choque seemed to slump further, and his mouth fell open.

 _That should keep him out for an hour or so._ She hadn't wanted to inject him straight away, because he still would have had time to shout out for help.

She rose, shaking, and crept over to check the spy hole in the door. She could just see the bodyguard, leaning against the opposite wall looking bored. Maggie slowly, silently bolted the door shut.

She returned to Choque, and rolled him onto his side so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. She straightened, then stepped on his cigarette, which was beginning to singe the carpet.

Maggie let out a quiet breath, surveying her work. Choque, unconscious on the floor, with minimal evidence of a struggle. Even his whiskey glass had stayed on the small coffee table. He wouldn't be hurting anyone in this state. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit a single button.

Maggie climbed back out the bedroom window and slid it shut, before squatting on the window ledge and catching her breath.

It was quiet now. The TV was still going in Choque's room. She could hear conversations drifting out of other open windows, a comforting familiarity.

She could only imagine the chaos she'd set off with that single button. It had triggered an alert to the FBI and the three other agencies searching for Choque, with his exact location and room number. It had also triggered a robo-call to the local police helpline, telling them the same information and warning them about the two bodyguards and Fiona.

She didn't have to wait long. Just when the roar of adrenaline in her veins was fading, police cars screeched up outside the hotel lobby. Maggie watched as over a dozen officers rushed in, grabbing the bodyguard at the front door before he could fumble for his phone. She heard knocking at Choque's door.

"Boss? _Boss?_ I can hear sirens!" the other bodyguard rattled the doorknob, then cursed when he found it locked.

A minute later Maggie overheard muffled shouting from the corridor, followed by louder pounding at the door. " _¡Policía! Abra la puerta!_ " [ _Police! Open this door!_ ]

It took them about ten seconds to start slamming at the door with something that sounded heavy and blunt. There was splintering wood, then what sounded like a parade of elephants thundered into the room. Maggie smiled to herself as she heard the police shout in surprise, before discussing how best to bring the unconscious Choque into custody.

Maggie started climbing back to the roof. She pulled herself up from one ledge to the other, biting back groans. When she reached the roof, she glanced down just in time to see four officers carrying Choque out to a police car, in handcuffs. His head lolled drunkenly.

She activated her wingpack, sighing when she felt the large black wings stretch out to either side of her. She took a running leap - she didn't want to risk using her engines now - and glided across the road to alight on the roof of her own hotel. She was still buzzing with energy as she jogged to the stairs and hurried back down to her room, but she knew that nothing would be the same again.

* * *

The next week, Andrew Choque was charged with international human trafficking charges and murder.

Maggie toasted the news from a new hotel room in a new city, already on her next case.

* * *

The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

"I supposed we can close the Choque file then," said Alexander Yeltz, the analyst supervisor on floor 3.

His junior analyst, a fresh-faced young man named Sebastian, tapped away at his computer. "What should I put under _resolution_ , sir? What did the FBI say?"

Yeltz rubbed his chin. "They said they weren't sure where the tipoff came from, none of the transmissions were traceable. And they suspected he'd been subdued before the police got there, due to some bruising. Not that they got a word out of Choque." He shrugged. "Could've been double crossed by one of his men. Or we've got a mysterious good samaritan out there."

"That'd be a nice change," Sebastian said.

"Sure it would." Yeltz jerked his chin at the screen. "Just put _unknown intelligence_ , and flag it on the system in case something else like this crops up."

* * *

January, 2008

Maggie had developed a taste for the work. She wasn't quite sure what to call it - investigation? Vigilantism? She didn't like the sound of those. But she _did_ like her new missions. This was something good she could do, something to make the world just a little less terrible.

She'd been on four more missions. One in South America, the other three in North Africa and the Middle East, her targets drawn from Most Wanted lists and tipoffs from the shadow world. For the first two she'd just done her research and then sent anonymous tipoffs to the relevant law enforcement agencies. The last two were very likely to run, but she didn't bother physically fighting them. She'd invested in more sedatives, to be slipped in a drink or a dart, and if that failed she'd installed a short-range electroshock device in each of her wingpack gloves, which would reliably knock out an average-sized man.

As Maggie travelled she kept her ear out - both as the nameless, disguised woman she usually was, and also as Maggie Stark. Every now and then she popped up publicly, making appearances at parties and getting her photo taken so people knew she was still alive, and so she had a good cover. It was also a good way of overhearing information.

Then she slipped back off the map, into a wig and a pair of contacts, and set about hunting her next target. She didn't really question her new direction. She just _did_ it. It seemed like a natural answer to the question she'd been asking herself ever since she ran out of Stark Industries.

She was still on the hunt for the Winter Soldier, but she'd realized that she needed to be doing this, too: finding those who harmed others, and making them _stop_.

But for now, she'd returned to California for another visit home. Happy had been forming conspiracy theories about abductions again, and Tony sounded ever more lonely on the phone, so she'd caught a flight back and dyed her hair her normal colour again in the airport bathroom.

Tony greeted her at the Los Angeles airport with a tight hug. "Good to have you back, Maggot," he said as he squeezed her. "If only for a bit." She'd called ahead to let them know she could only stay a week and a half.

After that, she had another hunt waiting for her. Her ex-CIA contact had more or less figured out what she'd been doing, and had brought a man to her attention: a middle-aged corporate mogul who he suspected was abusing children on international business trips. This would be a tricky one, as the man wasn't actually wanted by anyone. Maggie would have to find some evidence.

Back at the mansion, Maggie and Tony exchanged late Christmas presents - she'd bought him a set of board games they could play together, and he'd bought her a Stark Industries t-shirt. It made her smile. Maggie had made Tony promise years ago that he wouldn't buy her anything worth more than $100 for her birthday or Christmas unless she pre-approved it. Though the choice in gift also brought about a stirring of unease in her gut.

She eyed Tony as he read through the instructions for _Clue_. She wondered, sometimes, if he had ever felt the same qualms that she did about Stark Industries. Had he never doubted their work? Where they got their money from? Maggie knew Tony was a good man, despite what the gossip papers said about him. He cared about people, however much he tried to hide it with humour and charm.

Maggie knew from experience that it was hard to break out of that life. She'd needed to flee the country to do it. But then, maybe Tony just didn't see the harm that they did. And she couldn't confront him about it. Because Stark Industries was their _family_. Her turning against it was bad enough.

* * *

Nine days later, Maggie sat at the end of a table in a five-star restaurant, stiff and uncomfortable. Men in business suits filled the rest of the chairs at the table, save for the one to her right, and their laughs and conversation rose over the mellow jazz music from the restaurant speakers.

The man to her left leaned over. He was the CEO of a consultancy firm, just as the rest of them were all corporate high flyers. He swallowed his mouthful and then smiled at her. "So no Tony, then?"

Maggie glanced at the empty chair to her right. "No," she said, as if she had any idea where he was. "He's been busy with the company ever since I got back, though."

The man laughed. "Oh, no need to excuse him Ms Stark, we know what he's like. Enjoy yourself!"

Maggie smiled uncomfortably, sipped her champagne, then fidgeted with her stiff pencil dress. _Tony invited me to this dinner with all his corporate friends. The least he could do is show up._

She stood, mouthing _bathroom_ to the only person who bothered to look up, and strode away. On the way to the bathroom, however, she spotted two of the men from her dinner table shaking hands near the entrance to the kitchen. She angled past them, intrigued.

The taller man, a silver-haired retailer CEO named Byers, gripped the shoulder of the shorter man. "Really, William, you ought to contact my guy Sergev. He's made me millions and he could do the same for you."

"Well I'll definitely look into it."

Maggie passed by them and went into the bathroom with a furrow in her brow. She hadn't really thought about eavesdropping, it was almost second nature now. She hadn't expected to hear something that had her _other_ self perking up its nose. That could have been any normal conversation for the kind of men at her dinner table, but there was something about the look in Byers's eye. A look she recognised. _Perhaps that's something worth looking into._

She put it out of her mind for now, splashed water on her face, then sighed and headed back to the table full of Tony's corporate friends.

Maggie had worked up a steady undercurrent of fury by the time she got back to the mansion. She strode inside, kicking off her heels.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.? Where is he?"

" _Sir is home, Ms Stark, but he has a… guest._ "

Maggie stopped in her tracks. "Oh." She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, trying to force her jaw to unclench. "Fine."

She picked up her shoes and padded into her childhood bedroom, suddenly exhausted.

* * *

The next morning, Maggie got to the workshop before Tony did. She'd risen before dawn, eager to finish working on the project she'd brought with her - not the wings, that would raise too many questions. But she'd decided she needed more computer power on her travels than the beat up laptop she carried around. She had almost finished her new model: it looked like a small briefcase, but opened up to reveal a computer with four times the processing power, and a miniature version of the holographic design portal that Tony had in his workshop. With this computer she could design adjustments to her wings, store intelligence, and hack into a foreign intelligence organisation, all completely untraceable.

Tony padded down the stairs to the workshop an hour or so after she did, and they met eyes as he pushed open the glass door.

Maggie cocked an eyebrow at his mussed hair and rumpled clothes. She could guess why he was coming down here now, at the crack of dawn. "Avoiding confrontation, much?"

He shrugged and flopped into his work chair. "It's not confrontation if it never happens."

Maggie rolled her eyes, and went back to installing the outer plating of her computer hub. She wanted it to be missile proof, and thankfully that was a Stark Industries specialty.

Tony watched her. "Will you come with me to this Innovators Ball thing this afternoon?"

She gave him a sharp glance. "Are you actually going to come?"

"Yes," he promised. "I am sorry about yesterday. But you can eyeball me every second of the way to the thing today."

Her lips pressed together. "Dress code?"

"I don't know, there's an invitation somewhere. Probably fancy."

The casing to her computer hub slid in with a soft _hiss_. "Fine. But you can't ditch me there, and if anyone acts like an asshole you have to let me pour my drink on them."

Tony nodded reasonably. "Is that what happened last night?"

"No, I resisted the urge. None of them were too bad. They're just… not really my sort of people."

"Nor mine. That's why I didn't go." He spotted Maggie glaring again, and he grinned. "Thank you, Magenta."

She tucked her completed computer hub under her arm and stood up. "I'm going out for a ride so I don't have to be here when your friend wakes up. I'll see you later."

Tony waved absently and she took the stairs two at a time, already thinking about how her motorcycle at top speed wouldn't compare to the feeling of soaring over the California desert with her wings.

* * *

To Tony's credit, the Innovators Ball was much more fun than the stiff corporate dinner the night before. The venue was a large gallery, but instead of art there were displays of technology: interactive robots, VR games, solar light displays, and completely automated cars. Stark Industries had its own display, shsowcasing their latest smart body armor. Maggie and Tony stuck together, trying out all the new gadgets and filling their heads with new ideas. When everyone gathered in the main hall for the dinner, Tony charmed their table guests while Maggie listened to the specialists who'd been invited to speak.

After the dinner, they went back to exploring the gallery. Now night had fallen the building was ablaze with lights: digital screens and LED displays and illuminated podiums. When Maggie picked up the edge of her skirt to step off the VR podium she'd been trying out, Tony paused.

"Hey," he said. "You have a new leg."

Maggie glanced down at the dark grey prosthetic peeking out from under her umber dress. She had a flesh-coloured sleeve she could wear over it, but hadn't bothered with it tonight. "Oh. Yes." She didn't particularly want Tony asking questions about it, and she could see him eyeing the joints and smooth plating, so she slid her arm into his and said: "Let's go get a drink."

They strode arm-in-arm to the back of the gallery, where a glittering bar had been set up. Maggie let the sounds of technology and conversations and her brother talking her ear off wash over her. She didn't mind this: the times when she and Tony could just be brother and sister, enjoying a party full of interesting new ideas. Then her eyes snagged on the Stark Industries podium and her jaw clenched.

They reached the bar, where the sharply-dressed bartender beamed at them. "What can I get you, Mr and Ms Stark?"

Tony's eyes darted to the top shelf of liquor and Maggie grinned. "We'll have-"

Tony never got his sentence out, because at that moment a deafening _crack_ resounded in the gallery. Maggie flinched, whirling, and more of the sharp, ear-splitting _cracks_ resounded, followed by screams. Everyone in the vicinity screamed and scrambled to the ground, and with everyone dropping out of sight Maggie saw a group of men at the far end of the room with balaclavas pulled over their faces, wielding rifles.

Maggie grabbed Tony by the shoulder of his suit and hurled him over the bar before jumping over after him. He swore violently and tried to stand, but she put a firm hand on his head and pushed him behind cover, looming over him to protect his body with hers. More shots rang out and three of the liquor bottles over their heads smashed, raining glass down on them. The bartender screamed.

Maggie's heart raced as she peeked over the lip of the bar. She'd experienced gunfire before, in her mission before last, but she'd been armed then, and ready for it. She hadn't realised how deafening it would be in an enclosed space like this. How her guts would churn.

Tony was still swearing, dialling 911 on his phone with one hand and with the other trying to help the bartender, who'd been cut by the falling glass.

Maggie heard the men at the other end of the room shouting, and peered over the edge of the bar to see them gesturing their guns at a white-faced man at one of the tech podiums. Shaking, the man handed over the prototype computer chip he'd been exhibiting. _A heist, then_. The armed men split up, raiding the other tech counters and sporadically firing their guns at the walls. Each gunshot was followed by screams and wails from the guests, most of whom were huddled under tables or laid flat on the ground with their hands over their heads.

"Maggie, are you okay?" Tony whispered.

"Fine," she murmured back. "You?"

"I'm good, 911 says they already know. Police are on their way." His voice shook. At that moment, Maggie heard sirens in the distance.

Her teeth gritted as she eyed the gunmen storming through the room, pointing their guns in people's faces. She wished she had a - _oh._ Without taking her eyes off the closest two gunmen, Maggie reached down to her prosthetic leg, opened the secret compartment she'd installed in the calf, and pulled out her pistol. She armed it with a _click_.

Tony glanced up at her from where he'd been helping the bartender. "Whoah, why do you have a gun?" He grabbed her ankle, as if afraid she was about to run off.

"For shit like this," she murmured. "You don't have one?"

"Why would I need a gun, that's what Happy's for!"

"Do you see Happy right now?" she hissed back. Happy was waiting in the car. "If he tries to get through this, he's dead."

The gunmen had heard the sirens. They grabbed their stolen tech and ran for the front door, yelling at each other. Maggie let out a breath of relief. But then as they burst through the doors, Maggie saw red and blue flashing lights glowing outside. She heard distant shouting over what sounded like loudspeakers: _Drop your weapons and get on the ground_!

She couldn't properly see what happened next - there was shouting, and gunfire, and everyone in the gallery started screaming again. Her heart leapt into her mouth. Then one of the men darted back inside, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were wide and white against the blackness of his mask, and he raised his gun to swing it around at everyone in the room as he ran. "Stay out of my way!" he shouted.

A moment later Maggie realized his plan - he was headed for the back door of the gallery, lit by a green emergency exit sign. The door was just beside the bar. She hunkered down behind the bar, steadying her breath, her hands sure on her gun.

When the dark shape of the gunman flew into view, she fired.

The man dropped with a howl, clutching at his knee, and his rifle went skittering across the floor. Moments later police flooded into the building and swarmed on the man, wrenching his hands behind him and slapping him in cuffs.

Maggie glanced around, breathless, but other than Tony no one had seen what she'd done. So she slipped her gun back into its hidden compartment.

An hour later, after the police interview and the paramedic checks, a distraught Happy bundled Maggie and Tony back into the car. Tony kept shooting Maggie weird looks.

Finally, she sighed. "Tony, I'm a woman with an immense fortune and a lot of family enemies. Yes, I walk around with a gun. You should too."

He took a long drink from the water bottle Happy had pressed into his hands. "I get it, I'm glad you're safe." He frowned, then shrugged. "I guess I just thought the family business was making weapons, not using them."

She eyed him. "Making weapons and not using them doesn't keep our hands clean." A long, tense moment stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the engine and Happy's unhappy muttering. Finally, Maggie broke eye contact. "Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

He let out a breath. "Yeah. You?"

She looked out the window at the streetlights flashing past. "Yeah. I, um, have to pack. For tomorrow."

"Right. Your flight."

They didn't speak another word for the whole car trip home.

* * *

The next morning, Tony gave Maggie an awkward hug at the airport, almost as if he thought she didn't want it.

"I'll see you later, Tony," she said tiredly. "Don't get into any trouble."

"Yeah. And you…" he swallowed, and Maggie knew he'd been about to say _be safe._ "Have fun."

Maggie thought of the hunt ahead of her, and of the wingpack in her bag, just waiting to find its home between her shoulder blades again. She smiled. "I will."

* * *

February, 2008

Maggie found the child abuser her ex-CIA contact had asked her to look into. He was clever - tech savvy, good at hiding his tracks, good at finding victims from the poorest places and ensuring they would never speak. But Maggie was cleverer. It took her only a few weeks to build up a file of hard evidence on him. She sent that to her contact, and for good measure sent the evidence to the local police department in the abuser's latest holiday destination so he was arrested in front of all his corporate buddies.

 _You know_ , her contact told her over their encrypted communication line, _you might consider signing your work._

 _Why, so they can catch me?_ She asked.

_People have got bigger problems to worry about than a little vigilantism, nameless hunter. No, I mean so people can turn to you. Trust you. You might find yourself getting more requests like mine._

Maggie thought it over as she turned her attention to the businessman she'd overheard at the corporate dinner in LA. And sure enough, her instincts proved correct. The _Sergev_ guy he'd mentioned was a Russian agent heavily involved in manipulating the US stock market. She sent his details to the FBI. But then she went back to the businessman she'd eavesdropped on, Byer. As well as involving himself in dirty money, it turned out he had illegal textiles manufacturing plants south of the border, where workers lived in slave-like conditions.

Maggie lured Byer down to his largest plant with a false message from his Sergev buddy. At first Byer seemed confused to find the plant running normally, and his friend not there, but then he walked back outside and Maggie grabbed him.

He squealed like a child when her gloved hands closed around his collar. The orange sky was fading into darkness, and when he scrambled around to look at his attacker he found a woman clad in black, with a strange metal shape on her back, her face concealed by a black mask and a pair of mechanic's goggles. He screamed again, his feet kicking in the dirt, but Maggie held him firm.

"Let me go!" he cried, his voice high and desperate. He'd seemed so self assured, back at that dinner she'd had with him: tall, in a finely-tailored suit, smiling and well pleased with himself. But here the setting sun of West Mexico shone on both his and Maggie's true selves: he, a frightened and pleading man, and she a dark wraith come to deliver consequences for his actions.

She shook him a bit, to stop the pleading. "You knew it was like this," she said in a low, unrecognisable voice. She dragged him back to the plant and flung open the door to reveal the manufacturing floor, where the workers were packed in tight hunched over sewing machines, half of them looking like they should be in middle school, and the overseers looming over them, hard-faced. The air smelled like sweat and fear. Maggie slammed the door shut again and Byer yelped. "You _knew_." Her voice shook a little. She'd been watching this factory for days now. She'd seen children beaten, seen women crying over infected wounds on their hands from the machines.

She hurled Byer into the dirt. "Is it different, in person? Or does it feel the same as when you sign it all off on a sheet of paper?"

Byer stared up at her with round eyes. "Please don't hurt me. Please, please, I can give you what you want-"

Maggie raised her hand and activated the electroshock device on her wrist. The bolt hit Byer in the chest and he slumped to the ground, twitching.

Maggie stared at him for a few moments, breathing hard before pulling out a pair of handcuffs and cuffing Byer to the nearby signpost. Her gut still churned with anger. _Probably some displaced shame there, Maggie_ , she told herself. She rubbed her forehead. She knew Stark Industries didn't exploit its workers like this, but… _we must have killed thousands more people than Byer._ Gritting her teeth, she spun around and punched the wall. Her gloves protected her from breaking her knuckles, but the burst of pain cut through her anger.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and began preparing to send off her evidence pack to the local agencies. Her finger hovered over the _send_ button.

 _You might consider signing your work_.

Hesitantly, Maggie's fingers went back to the keypad.

 _Who am I?_ She'd never put a name on all this before. She'd never even admitted what she was doing out loud.

She thought about her wings, closed up tight against her back. That reminded her of her old callsign when she was a kid, but then she bit the inside of her cheek. Dragons were big, larger than life. She was a smaller entity, slipping through the shadows before striking hard and fast. She thought back to those old story books she used to love.

A smile suddenly grew on her lips. Her fingers flew over the keys. At the end of her evidence pack she included a single word:

_\- Wyvern_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost up to Iron Man 1 territory now!


	11. Chapter Ten

July, 2008

The Wyvern took on a life of her own. Maggie kept on with her work and just got better at it, now deep in the world of secrets. But she wasn't a nomadic backpacker travelling any longer. She moved from target to target across the world, travelling namelessly in fast cars and jets, covering her tracks every step of the way.

Maggie Stark was still travelling, of course, so every now and then she popped up very obviously to have her photo taken at a party in Manila or a resort in the Maldives before fading away again.

She went after people on most wanted lists and kill lists, those who governments and agencies believed were too dangerous or too fast to bring in. She slipped in and kidnapped these people, and delivered them neatly packed. And she found that now she signed her work as the Wyvern, she did indeed have a few regulars who sent cases her way. Some offered to pay her, but she didn't accept. Occasionally she did accept equipment or vehicles for specific missions, since she didn't like to use Stark Industries resources for her work. She had a few online drops set up with different agencies in Europe and North America, and had made something of a name for herself in the world of counterintelligence.

No one knew anything about her other than the name _Wyvern_ , and the rumour that if you had an untraceable criminal, or a case that had gone beyond the boundaries of what your agency could do, you could reach out to her and she _might_ help you. Not a mercenary or a vigilante or an assassin - just the Wyvern.

Maggie realised that she had turned the Wyvern into a ghost, just like the Winter Soldier. She wondered if that meant he could be someone like her: a blank faceless entity, behind which lived a person with a whole other life.

Maggie killed her first man on a hot summer night in Amsterdam. He was an assassin, wanted by Interpol, and he had caught Maggie sneaking up on him on his hotel rooftop. He pulled out a knife. They fought, and Maggie wasn't able to knock him out quickly like she did everyone else - he was skilled, a lifetime fighter. They'd grappled on the floor and the blade nicked Maggie's fingers and teased at her throat.

She had heaved against him and pushed him back, breaking free. But when she rolled to her feet and looked down, she saw that the knife had lodged itself deep in his throat. A dark pool of blood lay gleaming on the rooftop, and the man was already dead.

Bile had risen in Maggie's throat, constricting and hot. But she'd repressed the urge to be sick. Shaking, she sent her tipoff to Interpol. She didn't get rid of her Wyvern signature. This man and his death were a part of who she was, now.

Later, as Maggie washed off the blood and cried in the shower, she realised she wasn't sorry that man had had to die so she could live. But she knew, deep in her bones, that she didn't want to be the person who killed, instead of incapacitated. She had heard through the grapevine that some of her contractors would prefer her to kill her victims, instead of turn them over to justice. But for her, a trial was miles better than a funeral.

* * *

August, 2008  
Minsk, Belarus

Maggie stood in a trashed studio apartment with her hands on her knees, panting. The shackled woman on the floor in front of her lay groaning, the broken glass under her crinkling slightly. Maggie had had to break the woman's ribs to keep her down, even after she'd got the handcuffs on.

Maggie peeled up the bottom of her face mask slightly so she could wipe the blood away from her busted-open lip, then glanced down at the dark haired woman on the ground. "I thought you were an _investment banker_ ," she said in weary Russian.

The woman rolled onto her back and laughed. She was only a few years older than Maggie, wearing a rumpled black dress and smudged red lipstick. "I am." She spat blood onto the floor. "That was fun, _kotyonok_ , let's do it again."

Maggie glanced around at the woman's apartment. The plate glass window was smashed, the curtains billowing in the cool air, the bedroom door hung precariously off its hinges, there were cracks and body-sized holes in the plaster walls, and nearly every ornament on the coffee table and bookshelf had been smashed to smithereens. The digital TV had three bulletholes in it.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Maggie asked, still panting. She'd come after this woman because her competition in the banking market had been mysteriously dying. Maggie had thought the woman was hiring assassins to do her dirty work, but she was pretty sure she'd found the main culprit now. That was the hardest fight she'd ever fought. At least four times she was sure she was about to die. It was a good thing she'd learned to quickly incapacitate fighters more skilled than herself.

The woman's lips curved dangerously. "Who are you, with your strange clothes and your mask?"

Maggie just eyed her.

"Oh, go on," the woman pouted. For a woman with at least three broken ribs who'd been recently electrocuted, she seemed remarkably composed. "I accept you've beaten me, and you're clearly not going to kill me. So tell me who you are, before you hand me over to whoever you work for."

"You'll be going to the police," Maggie said in a hard voice.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Well I didn't expect that. Go on then, who are you, goody two shoes?"

"Who are you?" Maggie challenged.

"I am Zoya."

That wasn't the name in Maggie's file, but for a woman who could fight like _that_ , she wasn't surprised she was going by a fake name.

"And where'd you learn to fight like that?"

Zoya cocked her head, her dark hair sliding over broken glass. "You really don't know? I thought that's why you came." She eyed Maggie's black mask and goggles as if she could see through them. "Hm. Well I come from the Red Room, not that _that_ matters any more." She smiled at Maggie's continued silence. "My my, you haven't even heard of the Red Room? What are they teaching baby agents these days?"

"Alright, that's enough out of you." Maggie aimed her wrist-mounted blaster downward and knocked Zoya out with a point-blank bolt.

The silence was blissful.

* * *

A week later, Maggie stood in a crater.

Or at least it looked like a crater: Maggie could tell it had once been a grand old building with a marble staircase, stone pillars, and crystal chandeliers. But now it all lay in smashed and blackened rubble, a scar in the small Russian city she had come to.

It turned out the Red Room was more or less common knowledge amongst intelligence agents. It didn't use to be, but last year the whole organization had crumbled suddenly. Now, agencies had figured out that the Red Room was an assassin training facility for young girls, disguised as a ballet academy.

Maggie spotted a single, dusty ballet shoe in the rubble as she paced through it. From what she could tell, there was nothing left of the Red Room's organization: the leaders had been killed in the bomb blast that had decimated this building, and the youngest recruits, frightened young girls, had arrived at a nearby children's shelter in tears. Maggie had dug into all the information she could find, trying to see if anyone had escaped, but whoever had taken down the Red Room had been thorough. Maggie had done her research to see if this was someone she should look into, but it seemed they were a ghost like her. She always came up blank.

Maybe there were other people out there like Zoya, but Maggie already knew that she would not be able to find them unless they wanted to be found - Zoya had admitted as much to Interpol, claiming she'd gotten bored of living on the legal side of life.

Maggie sighed, her nostrils full of the smell of burned wood and dust. There was nothing left here. No leads for her to follow.

Whoever had put an end to the Red Room had made sure it would never rise again.

* * *

The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

"Alright, next on the list…" Fury clicked down on the list of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s low-level observation targets, rubbing his temple. "Margaret Stark." He glanced back up at Agent Coulson, who sat opposite his desk with a tablet on his lap.

Coulson reviewed the notes before meeting Fury's eye again. "Again, not much news, sir. We've seen her in the company of some pretty powerful and dangerous people abroad once or twice, but she keeps herself to herself and we don't really know what she's doing with these friends." He scratched his head. "Something's definitely up, but other than theories we can't be sure."

Fury leaned back. "Theories?"

"We thought maybe she had a secret boyfriend or a family or something," Coulson shrugged. "Another agent thought it might be drugs. But it could just be that she really, _really_ values her privacy."

Fury pinched the bridge of her nose. "So what do you think? Should we move her up a category?"

"I can't say, sir. It's hard to pin her down. I think it's definitely worth still keeping an eye on her where we can."

Fury waved a hand. "Keep her on the list then." He clicked over to the next target, sighing. "I do _not_ want to mess with the Starks."

* * *

September, 2008

Maggie came back to California for another week, and realized that she did not fit there any more. Her mind was focused on her work, and Tony noticed her distraction. He kept trying to convince her to stay - not by directly asking, but by trying to invite her to plans in two weeks, a month, a year. He told her to _stay_ with everything but his words, and Maggie didn't know how she possibly could.

She spent time with Happy in the boxing ring in Tony's gym, but found she had to hold back. She'd learned so much more than boxing. Happy had a good time, but keeping secrets from him always made her miserable. Rhodey invited her out to the airbase, but she turned him down. They went out for coffee instead, and Maggie realised that there was no one here who knew her anymore. Even Pepper, who at least seemed to understand Maggie's desire to get back out into the world, looked at her with concern whenever she thought Maggie wasn't looking.

Maggie tried her best to playact as the woman who _did_ fit there, and she did enjoy it. The time spent working quietly with Tony in the workshop, or eating takeout together on the balcony, felt precious. But the world kept creeping back in. She told herself to enjoy the time she had here, because she always missed Tony when she was gone. He missed her too, but she began to think he was missing a little girl called Maggot who kept her anger pressed so deep down that no one ever saw it, not even her.

On the last morning of Maggie's visit, Tony woke up at dawn and spent a few hours in the workshop, surprised to find that she wasn't down there. Normally they spent the first part of the morning together. Finally his stomach started growling, and he padded upstairs toward the kitchen.

He walked in and noticed the fridge door was open. Below the open door were two legs. Two _fully human flesh_ legs. Tony stopped dead, staring.

The woman looking into his fridge stepped back, and it definitely wasn't Maggie: this woman was blonde, wearing shorts and a loose shirt, humming softly to herself as she unscrewed the milk bottle lid and started pouring herself cereal. Her hair was mussed up, and as she turned Tony spotted a purpling hickey on her neck.

He frowned. "I don't know you." And this wasn't his usual 'oops I forgot your name now the alcohol's worn off', he _genuinely_ had never seen this woman before.

The woman yelped and spun around, then went bright red at the sight of him. Her hands folded over her chest. "Oh god, Mr Stark, I'm so sorry - she said you wouldn't be up here for hours, I-" as she spoke she scrambled to put the milk away and shut the fridge, clearly eager to flee.

Tony's expression cleared. He felt… uncomfortable. Beautiful woman in his house? Normally the start of something fun. Beautiful woman who'd just been thoroughly seduced by his little sister? _Yikes._

"You, ah-" Tony stammered over his words as he stumbled backward. "No worries." He backed out of the kitchen and fled back down to the workshop.

A couple of hours later, Maggie walked down the stairs to his workshop, back in her travelling clothes.

"I'm off again, Tony," she called as she poked her head in, then spotted him nearly neck-deep in one of his cars. "I know you said you have to be at SI so don't worry about driving me to the airport."

He glanced up. "Oh… okay."

Her eyes glinted. "Caitlyn said she ran into you."

Tony dropped his spanner with a clank. "Yeah, yep, you… good catch, Mags." He winced.

A smile grew on her lips. "I'm sorry, I should have asked before inviting company over. It is your house-"

"Nope, its's fine," he said shortly. "It's your house too, anyway. Is…" he sighed. "Is she likely to be round again soon? Just don't want to be… ambushed again."

She shook her head. "No, I'm leaving, and she's off to Afghanistan in a week."

His brow furrowed. "Uh, why?"

"She's a soldier." Maggie crouched to tighten her shoelaces. "We met at MIT, she's a detonations expert."

"Fun company."

"She is, actually. A good friend."

Tony started revising the shovel talk in his head. Maggie checked her watch, then darted across the workshop to wrap him in a brief hug. "I've got to go, Tony, see you next time!"

He watched her go. He didn't bother asking when _next time_ would be.

* * *

January, 2009

After months of missions, mostly in central Asia, Maggie got an email from Tony (composed by J.A.R.V.I.S., she guessed).

_Hey,_

_I don't really know where you are right now but you mention Europe in your phone calls sometimes, and I'm going to be in Marseille on Saturday for an SI International conference. If you're in the area, swing by. I'll buy you a car or something._

_\- Tony_

Maggie was in India, but she quickly replied:

_See you Saturday. A cup of coffee would be fine_.

\- _M_

* * *

Come Saturday, Maggie found herself striding toward a cafe in the heart of Marseille, her hands in the pockets of her winter coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She smiled when she spotted Tony, already sitting inside the cafe at a window seat. He looked so out of place here, as he did most places. He could never really blend in. He wore a fine charcoal suit with a bright striped tie, and seemed to be contemplating the contents of his coffee cup. He didn't notice Maggie until she slipped inside and tapped him on the shoulder.

" _Bonjour_ ," she smiled.

He jumped up. "You're here!" he gestured at her as if not sure what to do with her, then reeled her in for a hug.

_Is this what an adult sibling relationship is?_ Maggie wondered as they hugged and sat down together. She and Tony were always strangely codependent or completely distant.

"Where's all your things?" he asked.

"Oh, I left it all at my hotel." More or less true - she travelled light these days, since she had stashes of clothes and supplies in several countries, and a few safe houses.

A waitress came over and Maggie ordered a coffee. They made pleasant small talk for a few minutes, talking about Tony's conference and how Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper were doing. Maggie told Tony lies about her travels.

She wasn't ready for it when Tony set down his cup with a _clink_ and met her eyes. "When are you coming home?"

She blinked at him. "Well I was thinking about coming back for your birthday again-"

"No," he said, firm. "When are you coming home. For good."

Maggie stared at him. His expression was utterly determined, and his words measured. _He planned this._

Tony's jaw ground as she kept her silence. "You really don't want to come back, do you? All this time I've been telling myself this was some extended break, like a gap year, but-"

"I don't know, Tony," she said, suddenly frightened by the hurt she could see in his eyes. "I don't have any fixed plans-"

"You've been gone _two years_ ," he said, his voice shaky. "I thought this would be temporary. _When are you coming back_?"

"I… I don't know." Maggie had faced the ringleader of a child trafficking organisation last week, but her heart was pounding twice as fast now as it had then. A sick feeling swirled in her gut.

Tony drew in a sharp breath. "What is it that's keeping you away? I can fix it, Maggot." His eyes were desperate now. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No, nothing like that-"

"Is it me?" he asked, and the hurt in his eyes crystallised. He finally broke their eye contact. "Because I - I know I wasn't the best… guardian, or whatever, when you were a kid, but-"

"Tony, no," Maggie said, and her voice cracked on the words. "It's not that. You're the reason I go back."

"But not for good," he bit out, still not looking her in the eye. "And you won't tell me _why_."

"Tony…" her mouth opened, then closed once more. She could tell him exactly why, but she knew he wouldn't understand. Besides, saying the words out loud would make her a traitor to the family name, a traitor to their parents. How could she explain this new person she had become, anyway? She'd kept the truth so hidden for so long.

Maybe Tony didn't really know her anymore. Her heart lurched.

"I don't understand what you're _doing_ , Maggie," Tony said frustratedly, his voice low even though the cafe was empty. "I've been patient, I've waited for you to see sense and come back home. What will it take?"

Like a kindling fire, anger spiked in her gut. "See _sense_?" she echoed, straightening in her chair. "Tony, I am doing what I" - _what I'm good at_ \- "what I enjoy. I don't understand why that's a bad thing-"

His voice rose to match hers. "What, you're going to live as a backpacker your whole life? No job, no friends, doing god knows what and carrying a gun around-"

"Oh I _knew_ this was about the gun, why are you so-"

"It's _not_!" he snapped, and Maggie shut her mouth. "I am _worried_ about you. I wish you would just come home and cut out this - this quarter life crisis bullshit. The company needs you-"

"Oh, the _company-_ "

"Yes, _Stark Industries_ ," he shot back, almost shouting now. Maggie felt like poisonous snakes were churning in her gut. " _Stark._ I don't know why you get that look on your face whenever I bring it up, you loved working there! You were making a _future_ there. But now you're… you're throwing your life away, Maggie, and I don't know why."

Maggie gripped the edges of the table so she wouldn't hit him. For a few moments they just stared angrily at each other as Tony's words hung between them.

Finally, she let out a bitter laugh. Tony's brow furrowed. "You know, I just realised who you sound like," she said. He frowned further. "You sound like _dad_."

Tony jerked back, his eyes tightening. Maggie clamped her mouth shut.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Maggie could feel crystalline fragments of broken things piercing the air between them, piercing her chest. Her heart pounded as if she'd just run a race.

Tony broke the silence. "Fine." He stood up, fished in his pocket, and threw money on the table.

"Tony-" she began.

"No, no, it's fine." He straightened his tie, not looking her in the face, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes gleaming. "You want to live your life. Well go ahead, Maggie. I won't get in your way." He turned and walked away. The cafe door slammed shut behind him.

And Maggie knew she could chase after him.

But she didn't.

* * *

February, 2009

Tony and Maggie didn't talk.

Maggie kept an eye on him the best way she could - by reading the headlines. And it seemed he was doing fine. He threw half a dozen parties in the space of a month, and then _Science Weekly_ reported that he was about to become the winner of the Apogee award.

Tony did not know where Maggie was. But he'd never really known, anyway.

* * *

On the morning of her birthday, Pepper drove herself down the driveway to the Malibu mansion, sipping coffee from her to-go mug. As she parked, what felt like half a million things were running through her head. She had the dry-cleaning in the back and a stack of forms and the art dealer's call and the MIT commencement speech _and_ the fact that Tony was currently supposed to be at the private airfield outside LA.

She swung her legs out of the car, picked up the dry cleaning and her clipboard, and headed to the door. There was another dark sedan idling in the driveway, and a delivery truck.

Pepper didn't bother feeling annoyed by her mile-long to do list anymore - in fact, she found the longer she had the job the more she enjoyed the challenge of it, juggling all the tasks _and_ keeping Tony in line.

Though recently he'd been testing even her. He'd been bad ever since whatever happened between him and Maggie in Marseille last month. Pepper knew they'd met up, but Tony had come back surly and angry and refused to speak about it. She knew they hadn't spoken since.

Pepper had never really known the two to fight like this before. They squabbled, certainly, and had disagreements, but they never refused to speak to each other. Pepper wanted to fix it, like she fixed everything else, but she knew this one wasn't up to her.

At the door, Pepper pulled up short at the sight of a uniformed courier with a package under at his arm, crouching down to peer at the door panel. _Oh._

"Hello?" she called.

The courier turned, looking flustered. "Ma'am, this robot voice thing keeps telling me to go away-"

"Don't blame J.A.R.V.I.S., he's just the messenger unfortunately," Pepper sighed, and shifted her clipboard under her arm. "I can sign for that." It was probably more parts for Tony, since he'd been on an engineering binge recently. At least when he wasn't out at the casinos with Happy.

"I've been instructed that only the recipient can sign for this," the courier said, glancing down at the package to read the label.

"Trust me, neither of us wants him to come up here to do that-"

"Says here the recipient is… Pepper Potts?"

Her mouth snapped shut. "Oh." She blinked. "That's me."

They took a few seconds for Pepper to sign for the package and tuck it under her arm, before the courier headed back to his truck and Pepper strode through the door of the mansion.

She opened the package as she walked inside, frowning. Who would send her a package _here_? Brown paper pulled away to reveal a book - crime fiction, _damn, someone knows my weakness_ \- and a voucher for a spa day. Her eyes boggled at the location; this was one of the most exclusive spas in LA, it needed to be booked months in advance and cost more than she could afford on her salary.

Pepper's eyes narrowed. There was no _way_ that Tony arranged this, and if he had then she was going to have him checked out by a doctor. Plus, she would have to return the dress she'd bought on his behalf.

Then a note slipped out of the book and down to the gleaming floor. She crouched down to retrieve it, then read the neat handwriting:

_Dear Pepper,_

_Please, for the love of god, take a day off. If anything blows up then that's on me._

_Happy birthday._

_\- M_

Smiling, Pepper set the gifts down by the front door. _She's okay._ Maggie always sent a present to Pepper on her birthday, and Pepper was relieved to see that whatever argument she and Tony had had, Maggie hadn't completely cut herself off.

As Pepper headed into the living area, she decided it would be best if she didn't mention this to Tony.

In the main living area, with its wide windows looking out over the glinting ocean, Pepper spotted a blonde woman wearing nothing but one of Tony's red shirts padding around barefoot and round eyed. She hadn't spotted Pepper yet.

Pepper watched as the woman paced over to a side table and opened a book, then peered at a framed photo of Maggie and Tony at Maggie's high school graduation.

When the woman tried to access the stairs down to the workshop, the door panel flashed red and J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke:

" _You are not authorised to access this area._ "

The woman flinched back. "Jesus."

"That's J.A.R.V.I.S., he runs the house," Pepper said, and the woman turned to stare at her. Pepper lifted the garment bag. "I've got your clothes here, they've been dry cleaned and pressed, and there's a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you would like to go."

The woman's eyes glinted as she got over her shock. "You must be the famous Pepper Potts." She paced toward her.

Pepper forced a smile. She wished Tony wouldn't bring journalists back here. "Indeed I am."

"After all these years, Tony still has you picking up the drycleaning," the woman said, with a smile that said exactly what she thought of Pepper.

For a moment Pepper was taken aback at the woman's catty smile. But only for a moment. In return her smile grew and a mask of cool professionalism slid over her face. "I do anything and everything that Mr Stark requires," she responded. "Including, occasionally, taking out the trash." She smiled and batted her eyes. "Will that be all?"

The woman left a moment later with her tail between her legs, still wearing Tony's red shirt. _One for the expense report_ , Pepper thought with a sigh as she took a phone call and headed downstairs to the workshop.

Sure enough Tony was in there, shoulder deep in a hotrod engine and his music blaring. Pepper asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to turn down the music just as she got off the phone and pushed open the door.

"Please don't turn down my music," Tony called over without looking around.

_Well, at least he's still using his manners._

" _You_ are supposed to be halfway around the world right now," Pepper told him as if she hadn't heard him.

"How'd she take it?" Tony shot back, as if he hadn't heard her.

Pepper sighed. "Like a champ."

* * *

The Next Day  
Kunar Province, Afghanistan

When an explosion went off in front of the military Humvee and the situation around him fell apart into screaming and gunfire, Tony thought: _Maybe I should've taken Maggie seriously when she told me to carry a gun._

But then a shotgun blast sprayed through the window and the world went a bit fuzzy.

Tony didn't think of Maggie again until a minute later, when he looked down to see blood soaking through his shirt and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always guys, let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter Eleven

February 14, 2009

Tony Stark woke up in a cold, dark cave, attached to a car battery.

* * *

It took a day for Maggie to find out.

She'd been off the grid in Somalia, her phone off to avoid detection. It wasn't until she walked into a convenience store and spotted Tony's face on the TV over the cashier's head that a worm of unease made itself known in her gut. The footage of Tony was old, recycled. Maggie couldn't read Somali, but something about it sent a chill down her spine.

She walked straight out of the store again into the hot desert air, and switched on her phone.

It instantly started buzzing with all the notifications she'd missed, the screen actually glitching for a moment to keep up with the demand. She had dozens of missed calls from Rhodey, Pepper, Obie, and Happy, and her tracking programs had pinged hundreds of alerts. She watched as her news alert app blared headlines, all of which said pretty much the same thing:

_TONY STARK KIDNAPPED AFTER WEAPONS DEMONSTRATION IN AFGHANISTAN_

Maggie's heart plummeted to her feet. She stumbled, almost falling to the umber dirt, and her view of her phone screen blurred. She pressed one hand to her chest, as if checking to see if her heart had really stopped. Cold washed over her despite the arid air, lifting goosebumps on her skin.

With shaking fingers she called Rhodey back and pressed the phone to her ear. The cool plastic of it felt overwhelming, her skin suddenly oversensitive and the ringtone blaring in her ear.

Rhodey picked up after two rings. " _Maggie-_ "

"Is it true?" she gasped, realizing that tears were spilling over her lips.

" _It is. I'm so sorry, Maggie_." He said it like Tony was dead. She sat down hard in the dirt outside the convenience store. " _I was with him at the weapons demonstration outside Kabul, but his convoy was attacked. His body wasn't in the wreckage._ "

Maggie pulled her knees to her chest. "Who… who has him?" her voice sounded strange to her own ears - loud and shaking and broken.

" _We're not_ _sure_." His voice was grainy. _"You should head home, Maggie, we don't know yet what the situation is or if you could be in danger-_ "

She hadn't considered that. She looked around. A long stretch of empty road, with her rented motorbike parked nearby. "I'm fine," she said, trying to gather her thoughts. "No one knows where I am." She swallowed. She tried to imagine Tony being attacked. Tony being taken away from the wreckage of his convoy, surrounded by people with guns. Her stomach flipped. "Keep me updated, and I'll stay in touch."

" _Maggie, what are you-_ "

She hung up on him and turned off her phone again before rising shakily from the dirt. She paced back to her bike, swung her leg over it, then fired up the engine and took off down the highway like she was being chased.

* * *

Maggie made it to Afghanistan the next day. She'd never been before and she didn't make herself known to anyone: she just based herself out of Kabul and got to work.

On the way Maggie had torn through all the information she could find. The world was in uproar at the kidnapping, every eye turned toward Afghanistan. And to her. Suddenly everyone wanted to know where she was, what she thought. The Stark Industries official line was: _We are making our best efforts to ensure the safety of Tony Stark. We can confirm that Margaret Stark is safe._ As if they knew where she was.

Other than the explosion of shock around the world, Maggie couldn't find out much about the kidnapping itself. The Department of Defense and the military had swarmed on the Kunar province, but hacking into their communications showed that they didn't have much in the way of intel. Whoever had taken Tony had struck violently and quickly, gone minutes before US reinforcements arrived. There'd been no contact, either to take credit for the attack or to ask for ransom money. There were half a dozen militias active in the area, and no way to know who was responsible.

When Maggie arrived she disguised herself in a headscarf and drove out to the site of the ambush: a lonely dirt road in a scrub-filled basin, flanked by snow-streaked mountains. The cold wind whistled eerily in the valley, the only sound.

The site had already been cleared up by the Department of Defense, but Maggie found it easily enough. She could still see the scars in the land. Shrapnel fragments peppered the sand and scrub, and scorch marks marred the sparse rocks.

She found the first blast site in the centre of the road, where a few remaining shreds of metal and sticky slicks of engine oil remained: the first Humvee explosion. She paced back down the road until she found a sprinkle of shattered glass, and a few paces away from that: blood. The US forces had taken away the bodies and remnants of both Humvees now, but this must have been where the second vehicle stopped. She circled, finding bullet casings and more dirt stained rust-red. The scrub all around the road was charred.

She lifted her head. "If I were attacking a convoy," she said aloud, turning, "where would I come from?" Her eyes fell on the mountains. They were the only real cover in the area. A horde of attackers would have been spotted approaching along the flat expanse of the valley, so they must have come down from the hills.

Maggie dug her toes into the dirt. "Lay an IED in the road, wait for the trap to be sprung. Then swarm on the survivors."Her brow furrowed as she eyed a crumpled metal panel riddled with bulletholes. For a kidnapping, this was excessively violent. Risky. If she didn't know better, she would say this was an assassination.

She drew in a deep breath. "They didn't find Tony's body here," she told herself _. Whatever happened, the attackers took him away_.

She wondered how Tony had felt, sitting in the Humvee as explosions and bullets roared around him. She'd only ever seen him in danger once, at the Innovator's Ball. He'd been scared then, round-eyed and panicked. She remembered the way he had gripped her ankle as if to keep her safe.

Her stomach turned. The DoD had analysed the recovered Humvee, and she had read the report. It had been shot up and smashed, but there had been no bloodstains inside the vehicle.

Breathing deeply, Maggie made a few more circles of the site. She knew she wouldn't get much from it, but she'd needed to see it. It had given her some ideas about Tony's kidnappers, after all: _they know the land. And they might not have meant for him to live_.

As she had that thought she spotted a missile crater a few yards off the road. She winced at the size of it. _Whoever they are, they have access to some serious tech_.

A glint caught her eye: not shattered glass or metal, but… plastic? She paced over and nudged the shiny black object in the sand, turning it over. Her stomach twisted. _A phone._

She recognised the shape of it instantly and snatched it up, wiping off sand. This was Tony's phone: custom made, with a rotating screen attachment. Half the keyboard had been cracked and it was caked with dirt. She hit the power button, holding her breath.

The screen flickered feebly to life. When she saw the command string waiting for her, Maggie's heart sank. _This is half of a distress signal._ She had the same signal built into her phone, and if it had been sent it would have alerted Stark Industries and the closest US authority of the emergency and the phone's exact location.

The screen flickered once more and died, and Maggie's eyes closed. _Tony got out of the Humvee. Tony was able to use his phone_.

Her eyes opened. _Tony wasn't able to finish sending the distress signal._ She looked over her shoulder at the missile crater, her stomach roiling.

A moment later she pocketed the smashed phone and strode back to her car, her chest tight and a hot, strangling feeling in her throat.

* * *

Ten Rings Base, Afghanistan

Tony stared around at the crates and crates of Stark Industries weapons in the militia encampment, hidden from above by camouflage netting. His body ached - from the fresh wounds in his chest, and the trauma of having his head shoved underwater over and over. The sun pierced his eyes. The steady, quiet man in the glasses behind him radiated tension.

His kidnapper, a large man with a false smile, spoke in a language Tony didn't understand.

The quiet man translated for him: "He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho missile. He wants you to make a list of materials." His eyes darted toward Tony. "He says for you to start working immediately and when you're done, he will set you free."

After a long moment, Tony took his kidnappers hand and shook it, smiling grimly. "No he won't."

The quiet man matched his smile. "No he won't."

Back in the aching cold of the cave, Tony sat across from his unwitting companion in front of a small fire in a metal stove.

"I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark," the man said in his even, accented voice. Tony thought of Rhodey, of the irritated, fond look in his eyes when Tony had told him _Sorry, this is the Fun-vee._ Probably for the best; Rhodey would have been one of the first out of that vehicle and in the line of fire when it got attacked. "But they will never find you in these mountains."

Tony stared into the flickering flames.

"Look," the man said softly. "What you just saw, _that_ is your legacy, Stark." Tony recalled Dad's severe face: _this is our legacy, son_. "Your life's work, in the hands of those _murderers._ Is that how you want to go out?" The man leaned forward. "Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?"

"Why should I do anything?" Tony responded softly, his voice hoarse from screaming. He touched the power cables snaking out of his chest. "They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week."

He was reminded suddenly, violently, of standing before a pair of gravestones. First mom and dad's, standing alone. Then two years later: the Jarvises. Tony had stood feeling crushed under the weight of his grief, physically crumbling underneath it. He'd only been twenty three at the time. Then a small, slightly sweaty hand had slid into his. It had startled him, until he looked down to see his little sister. She'd been in a black dress, a newly-made metal leg poking out from the hem, and she'd looked up at him with dry, knowing eyes. _Whatever happens, it'll be okay,_ she'd told him.

He'd laughed at the time. _Aren't I meant to be the one comforting you?_

Maggie was only twenty two now, a year younger than he had been. He wondered who would stand by her side when she visited his gravestone. Who would tell her it was going to be okay.

He wondered if she'd even be there.

"Well then," came the man's soft voice, intruding into his thoughts. "This is a very important week for you, isn't it?"

Tony's head lifted. Shadowy thoughts of death suddenly scattered, shed by the bright spark of an _idea_. His kidnappers wanted him to build something.

The man's lips quirked, as if he could read Tony's mind. "Hm?"

* * *

Kabul, Afghanistan

Maggie had developed a set of tools and resources as the Wyvern, and she used everything she had in her search for Tony. She reached out to her contacts in the shadow world, trying to hide her desperation as she asked if they knew anything. She rerouted satellites to capture images of the province, flew over the desert at night on metal wings, and scoured through every electronic trail she could find.

She stayed in touch with Rhodey, Pepper, and Obie though, calling at least one of them once a day. They all seemed worried that she might be in danger, and kept telling her to go back to California. Obie's calls got more and more frustrated. Maggie kept her calls short and direct, checking if they had learned anything new and giving little in return.

She did pass on a few leads to Rhodey, however. There were some threads that she, as a single operative, could not follow. She knew Rhodey was confused by how she was getting the information, and growing suspicious, but she kept him at a distance.

It became clear that Tony could not have been taken far from the area. Maggie would have heard _something_ if he had. He must still be in the treacherous mountains somewhere - Maggie heard rumours of expansive cave networks, of mountains haunted by demons disguised as militia. But the mountains stretched for hundreds of miles. Maggie could not search them alone. She knew that Rhodey and the DoD were sending out helicopters and surveillance jets every hour of the day.

A week after Tony's disappearance, one of Maggie's cyber activity nets flagged an anonymous transmission out of the area. It was encrypted so securely that when she tried to capture the data, she only managed to snag a frame of what she suspected was probably a video. She tried to trace the transmission back to its source, but was met with nothing but a void.

Gritting her teeth, Maggie cleaned up the corrupted file she'd managed to retrieve, working her magic until she could finally open it as a JPEG.

Instantly, she jerked back from her computer screen. The frame was pixelated and slightly corrupted, but she could make sense of the general scene: seven men in camouflage with cloth obscuring their faces and guns in their arms stood in a loose line, in front of a red flag with crossed sabres. And at the centre of the frame: _Tony_.

She wasn't sure how she knew it was him, since she could only realistically see a man with matted dark hair, a bloody face and bandages on his chest, strapped to a chair. But Maggie _knew_. He was the only one sitting, the white bandages a sharp contrast to his dark clothes - maybe a suit. There was a dark stain on the bandages over his chest. Maggie couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.

Maggie tore her gaze away from the screen and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, screaming between her teeth. When she looked up, Tony was still there.

Her eyes snagged on the flag in the background. _I've seen that before._

She went ripping through her investigation notes like a hyena with a carcass, until she tore free what she'd been looking for: _The Ten Rings._ One of the rumored militias in the area, shadowy and feared. No known base, not even a country of origin. As Maggie tore down her new path of investigation, she forwarded the JPEG anonymously to Rhodey and the DoD. They'd already worked with the Wyvern in the past.

She didn't sleep again for almost two days, too afraid that she'd see Tony when her eyes closed.

_You want to live your life. Well go ahead, Maggie. I won't get in your way._

* * *

March 9, 2009

Maggie was so busy searching for Tony that when her computer programs pinged the suspicious assassination of a nuclear scientist fleeing Iran, she completely missed it.

1800 miles away, Agent Natasha Romanoff stitched up her own abdomen while on the phone to her S.H.I.E.L.D. handler, describing her failure.

* * *

Ten Rings Base, Afghanistan

"Careful," Tony said, heart in his mouth and car battery in his hand. "Careful, we only get one shot at this."

The translator moved steadily to the worktable, holding a smoking cup of molten metal in a clamp. "Relax. I have steady hands. Why do you think you're still alive, huh?" As he began tipping the metal into the housing ring, Tony let out a breath. "My name is Yinsen."

"Yinsen. Nice to meet you."

Yinsen pulled away the empty cup. "Nice to meet you too."

* * *

Late March, 2009

Maggie didn't sleep much these days. Tony had been missing over a month, and there'd been no new information. The Ten Rings were almost as shadowy and vacant as the Winter Soldier - every time she reached out her fingers to grasp at them, they slipped away like mercury.

She tried not to look at herself in the mirror. It was easier to focus on the hunt, scouring every inch of sandy earth for her brother, than think about Tony himself. She couldn't bring herself to imagine what he must be feeling, if he was still alive. What he must think of her: the sister who'd abandoned him long before he ever went missing. When she looked in the mirror she saw gaunt, guilty eyes.

What did it say about her that she could track down assassins and mercenaries and ghosts, but not her own brother?

Then one morning, she woke up from fitful sleep to a message from Obie:

_CALL ME. NOW._

Panicked, she called him straight away. He picked up on the first ring.

"What's wrong?" She demanded. "Did… has anything happened?"

" _No_ ," came Obie's voice, tired. " _Maggie, don't hang up on me._ "

Her lips pressed together.

" _Come home_ ," he said shortly.

"Obie, I-"

" _No. No more talking. Maggie, let me make this very clear to you - if you don't come home now, then you will be responsible for leaving Tony's legacy in pieces. Every day that goes by when you aren't here, is another day that people tear us to shreds. I don't know where you are, but you can help_ _here._ _We need you. Come back._ "

Maggie opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but then Obie hung up on her.

She gaped in the silence, staring at the ceiling of her Kabul safehouse. She sat up and looked around at her tiny room, at her computer hub scanning fruitlessly for electronic transmissions, at the piles of notes and photographs. She thought: _what has my presence here really achieved?_

She wondered how she could possibly leave.

_You will be responsible for leaving Tony's legacy in pieces._

* * *

Los Angeles International Airport, California

Maggie went back.

Pepper, Obie, and Happy were waiting for her at the airport, like those few times she had returned home before. The balmy California air hit her like a slap to the face, and the absence of Tony felt like a bone-deep ache.

Obie, squinting in the sun, made it over to her first and pulled her in for a tight hug. "You're skin and bone, kid. I'm so sorry." He rested a hand over the back of her head, almost fatherly. Maggie pressed her eyes into his shoulder and let the weight of her backpack in her hand steady her. "Let's get you home."

They bustled over to the car, fussing over her backpack. Happy hugged her with one arm before opening the car door for her, and in the backseat Pepper rested her hand in the centre console, her face tight and her eyes knowing. When Happy started the engine, Maggie reached out and took Pepper's hand.

"Where are we going?" Maggie managed to whisper.

Obie turned around in his seat to eye her. "The mansion, first."

"I-" she wanted to say _I don't want to go there._ She didn't deserve it, not after how she'd left things with Tony. But another part of her kept her silent. She wanted to feel some connection to Tony - to the house he'd built, his workshop, J.A.R.V.I.S. and Dum-E and U. But she wondered if it would just hurt more. Her eyes itched from the time difference and the long flight.

"Then," Obie said, appearing not to have heard her brief protest, "Stark Industries. You need to give a statement."

Her stomach churned. "I don't-"

"We've already written one, don't worry. And I'll take any questions," he said with a reassuring smile. Until today, SI hadn't put out any information about her other than that she was safe and hoping for Tony's safe return.

Maggie sat in silence all the way back to the mansion. Obie and Pepper both checked their BlackBerries, though Pepper worked one handed, her other hand still gripping Maggie's. Happy drove in silence, occasionally glancing in the rear view mirror at her. Maggie watched the city slide past.

After they parked in the mansion driveway, Happy walked her to the door as Pepper and Obie followed behind, discussing press conference arrangements.

Happy looked sideways at her, and for a moment Maggie was sure he was going to say _Where have you been?_ But he just let out a breath, then said: "You're going to be okay, Maggie." She almost laughed at the lie. Happy reached out to rest a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're back."

She looked up, eyes stinging, but before she could think of anything to say he squeezed her shoulder and said "I'm going to go check the perimeter."

That left Maggie to walk through the front door on her own, Pepper and Obie hanging back - though Obie did call softly to her: _we need to leave again in fifteen minutes._

The glass door slid open at her touch.

" _Welcome home, Ms Stark_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said when she'd paced into the foyer, his voice somber.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Maggie replied, her eyes prickling. She hadn't been in this house for seven months. "Have you… do you have any leads?"

" _Some, Ms Stark, but none with much substance. I am sorry_."

She pushed back tears. "So am I."

The mansion was sleek and clean and bristling with pain. Maggie's eyes alighted on the long, low couch before the wide windows, and she pictured pizza boxes and teasing. Then the balcony on the other side of the sliding door, which looked out over the painfully blue ocean. She remembered the night she had drunk Tony's whiskey and yelled at him. She remembered going through college prospectuses. Coffee in the kitchen.

Tony was _everywhere_ , as if each item and room in this house held a phantom of him, grinning and sharp-eyed. Her heart panged as she stood in the living area, turning slowly.

 _I didn't want this._ She didn't want to be here, missing him. She wanted to be out there looking for him.

 _You will be responsible for leaving Tony's legacy in pieces_.

Maggie realized that Tony had only been twenty one when their parents died and he'd had to take up the mantle of Stark Industries. And here she stood, alone in their house, twenty two years old.

The thought made her want to crumple, but it also gave her the strength she needed to go to her childhood bedroom and find some work-appropriate clothes. She hid her wings and backpack in a secret compartment under her bed, and changed out of her faded travel clothes and into a suit.

 _If he could do it then, I can do it now._ Her skin itched.

She walked back up to the living area, where Pepper and Obie waited for her.

"I'm ready."

* * *

The Stark Industries press room was a round, sunny atrium tastefully appointed with pot plants and modern art. The windows looked out over the green lawns of the complex, and a distant park. But Maggie felt none of that manufactured calm as she stood at the lectern on the podium, her suit stiff and pinching and her eyes hurting from the flashing lights of the crowd of journalists in front of her. There were about forty of them, all staring at her and fidgeting as they waited for her to speak. Obie stood a few feet to her right, his arms crossed, and Pepper stood at the back of the room, her familiar face comforting.

Maggie cleared her throat, thinking of the script she'd memorised on the drive here. It lay in front of her on the lectern just in case.

She leaned in to the twin microphones on the lectern. Cleared her throat. "I'm here today to speak on behalf of Stark Industries, and the Stark family," she began, and a few journalists up the back leaned forward. "I've been working hard behind the scenes to find Tony" - Obie had written that as a cover for her extended absence, not knowing how true it was - "but I'm standing here today to make a public plea."

She swallowed and fixed her gaze out at the crowd, not focusing on any face in particular. "My brother is still missing. And if anyone has any answers, any information, please come forward." Her voice shook for a moment before she steadied it. She glanced down at the paper before her, then added in a plea of her own: "And if you have Tony," she said in a lower tone, "We can talk about this. We can come to an agreement, as long as you send proof of life. You know where to reach me." She sensed Obie shift, uncomfortable that she'd gone off script. A few journalists in the crowd exchanged glances.

Maggie returned to her script. "In the meantime" - she took a breath - "I can assure you that Stark Industries remains strong. I will be taking on the role of interim CEO" - at that, everyone in her crowd began talking, asking questions, snapping their camera shutters, starting to drown her out. She forged on - "to ensure Stark Industries' continued success, in my brother's stead." She swallowed again. "So he can pick right up again when he gets back."

Three minutes later, after she'd taken some questions, she walked off the podium, shaking slightly. Pepper was there, taking her by the arm and guiding her out, just as Obie took over to answer some more questions. Already, as Pepper led her through the lobby, Maggie spotted her own face on a TV on the wall. She looked brittle.

"If someone wanted a ransom for Tony, they would have contacted SI weeks ago," Maggie said dully. She and Pepper strode up a set of sleek metal stairs.

"They still might," Pepper said in a false-hopeful voice.

Maggie allowed herself to be led into Tony's office - _her_ office. It was huge, with a set of leather couches to one side, a meeting table on the other, and directly ahead a glass desk with a single chair, silhouetted by the wall-to-wall window looking out over the SI complex. Pepper shut the door behind them, and Maggie looked at that desk. Her heart pounded.

"I keep waiting to find out that he's dead."

* * *

Ten Rings Base, Afghanistan

"Good roll!"

The cave wasn't so cold these days, now that the bitter grip of winter had faded. Tony sat on an upturned bucket at a low table across from Yinsen, the miniaturised arc reactor that they had made glowing in his chest. A backgammon board sat on the table between them, with wooden dice and nuts and bolts for pieces.

Tony reached for their tea kettle. "You still haven't told me where you're from."

Yinsen took the dice, that not-quite smile on his face. They shared secrets and plans all day long, but Tony had realized that he didn't know much about his fellow prisoner.

"I'm from a small town called Gulmira," Yinsen said as he rolled. "It's actually a nice place."

Tony moved a bolt across the board. "Got a family?"

"Yes. And I will see them when I leave here." He and Yinsen had developed this way of talking to each other without looking at each other, their hands usually too busy with machine parts. But Yinsen looked up into Tony's face as he asked: "And you, Stark?"

Tony met Yinsen's gaze; it was open and honest, not expecting or demanding. He thought of lonely nights with strangers in his bed, building robots to make the house feel lived in, hissed shouts and pushing his sister away with his words. His eyes slid back down to the arc reactor. "You know I do," he murmured. "I might have driven them away though."

Yinsen's gaze did not break. "Oh," he murmured. The corner of his mouth ticked up in sympathy. "So you're a man who has everything. And nothing."

Tony, not sure how to respond to that, let a half-smile flicker on his mouth and his eyes darted away.

* * *

Los Angeles, California

Maggie moved back into her old apartment in the city, because it turned out that living in the mansion _was_ too painful. She visited a few times a week though, to speak to J.A.R.V.I.S. about his leads (she had given her electronic searching over to him, since he was smarter than her algorithms). She didn't let him in on her shadow world, but he did everything else for her. She also made sure to visit Dum-E and U, who lived in the workshop surrounded by half-baked projects. One of the hotrods had its engine disassembled around it on the floor, tools and rags splayed around the place as if Tony had only just stepped away from it. Maggie didn't go near it.

She worked at Stark Industries 7 days a week. There had been a lot that went undone without a CEO at the helm, and a lot of PR and sales to manage what with Tony being gone. Stocks had plummeted, but had seen a steady increase since her press conference. She did interviews for magazines who celebrated her as the youngest female CEO in the country, a _breath of life_ for Stark Industries.

The old engineers she used to work with now nodded respectfully when they passed her in the corridors. The pity in their eyes reminded her of how people used to look at her in hospital when she was a girl. She strode through the company - _her_ company - in power suits instead of her old comfortable workshop clothes, sitting in on meetings and signing forms. She called politicians and contractors.

She couldn't have done it without Pepper, who actually knew how everything was supposed to be run. Maggie had been gone some time. But Maggie could see Pepper's grief, too - she was quieter, less quick to smile, often distracted. Pepper avoided the mansion as well.

Maggie's wings collected dust under her bed.

Every morning when Happy drove her to work, Maggie had to convince herself not to hyperventilate when the Stark Industries complex came into view. Every day she signed off on designing, making, and selling weapons of war. All her old problems with the company resurfaced, but this time she was _responsible._ And she didn't want to change anything, because that would be a betrayal to Tony.

It felt like sitting in the driver's seat of a car headed straight to plow down a crowd of people, her hands glued to the wheel and her foot pressing down on the gas.

* * *

April, 2009

Obie walked into the CEO's office one evening to see Maggie sitting at the desk in near-darkness, working her way through a stack of distribution forms. Her jacket was slung over the back of her chair and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Pepper was off in a conference room somewhere on a call to Japan.

Maggie sensed Obie's presence and looked up for a moment as she signed the forms. She saw the appraising light in his eyes. It reminded her of what a few people had told her since she'd taken the job:

_You work harder than he used to._

Every time, it made her want to peel off her own skin. Or theirs.

Because she might be putting in more hours in the office, might be signing more forms, but she knew that she could not run this company like Tony had. He'd been a true leader, both as an engineer and CEO. Despite her ethical issues with the company, Maggie knew that she couldn't do the job like Tony had. She only spent so long in the office because she was _drowning._

Maggie thought Obie was going to stop on the other side of the desk but he walked around it, silent, until he was standing over her, his brow wrinkled and his grey eyes assessing. Maggie looked up at him with watery, tired eyes.

"I can see this is taking a toll on you," he finally said in a low voice. His eyes pinched with compassion. He had indeed been watching her closely these past weeks, always a few paces behind as if ready to step in. Maggie had hardly had the energy to feel grateful.

Obie sighed. "You never wanted this, did you?" he gestured around at the grand office.

Maggie fought back tears and her pen clattered to the glass desk. For a moment she wanted to lie, like she had ever since she'd gotten back: _It's a privilege to look after the company in Tony's stead. I want to make sure the family business succeeds. This is what dad would want._

But instead, she started crying. Tears slipped over her cheeks and she shuddered as she gripped the edge of the desk for support. Obie looked at her.

"It's not me," Maggie whispered. She shook her head frantically. "It's not me. It's not."

Obbie nodded, and before she knew it he'd tugged her up out of her chair with surprising strength and gripped her in a tight hug. "I know, kid." She shook in his arms. "I've known for a while. I promise you, you're not trapped in this. I've got your best interests at heart, trust me."

Maggie nodded into his shoulder, and let him hold her. Shame washed over her. _Tony is stronger than I am, he always has been. He took this up at a younger age, with so much more grief sitting on his shoulders. I can't even last a month._

Obie gently pulled back and squeezed her shoulders, eyeing her haggard face. "Let Happy take you home, Maggie. I'll finish these."

"But I need to sign-"

"I can sign them," he murmured as he steered her toward the door. "Go on. Rest."

* * *

Maggie went home, her forehead pressed against the car window as the lights of the city slid by.

Back in her lonely apartment, she didn't sleep. She worked until dawn, hunting through leads and possibilities and contacts, searching for everything she could find out about the Ten Rings. They had been trading in weapon parts recently, but she couldn't find any origins or destinations for them. She'd also identified a few men suspected of involvement with the Ten Rings, but nothing more than that. She funnelled everything she had to Rhodey anonymously.

Before she knew it, there was a knock at the door.

"It's me," said Happy, like he did every morning to pick her up.

She sighed and rubbed her red eyes. "One minute."

She hurried into her bathroom to wash her face and change clothes. She may as well convince people that she'd slept.

* * *

April 30, 2009  
Ten Rings Base, Afghanistan

Tony's heart pounded in his chest as the bald, sharp-eyed Ten Rings leader held a red hot coal in a clamp before Yinsen's face. Everyone in the room had frozen, looking between the man with the coal and Tony, who had just stepped forward. Guns bristled and the room held its breath.

The man's dark eyes seemed to peer deep, deep into Tony's mind, as if he could see all the secrets there.

Tony fixed his eyes on the panting Yinsen. "I need him." The coal smoked and glowed. Yinsen swallowed. Tony tipped his head to the side. "Good assistant."

After a long, burning moment, the sharp-eyed man dropped the coal onto the metal beside Yinsen's head. His eyes fixed on Tony. "You have until tomorrow," he said in a deceptively soft voice, "to assemble my missile."

He walked out and the others followed, fingers tight on their guns. Yinsen let out a breath and lifted his head from the metal plate.

Tony watched them leave. _You'll get a missile, alright._

* * *

May 1, 2009  
Los Angeles, California

The next morning, Maggie awoke to several notifications from J.A.R.V.I.S. about activity in the Kunar province. A strange energy surge, then… something also had the DoD in a tizzy.

Maggie flicked through the information as Happy drove her to work, digging into it. The DoD data was useless, as they hadn't logged anything on the system yet. They'd mobilized some forces, that was all she could tell. _This is why I wish I was there_ , said the part of her that wasn't exhausted, _so I could tap into their live communications_. _Maybe fly over the area myself._ She checked the satellite readings, and spotted what looked like an explosion in the steppes of a mountain range.

As they arrived at Stark Industries and she walked up to her office, she read through the data from the energy surge, frowning. _Whatever it was, this is something enormous._

She nodded hello to Pepper as she passed her desk, then pushed open the wooden doors to her office and strode inside. She already knew she was going to skip whatever CEO work she had this morning to look into this activity further.

But then her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and the caller ID read: _Rhodey_.

Maggie went cold. She sat down numbly in her desk chair and accepted the call. Pressed the phone to her ear.

Rhodey sounded breathless, staticky. " _Maggie, we found him_."

Her heart stilled in her chest. She couldn't read his voice. "Is… is he…"

" _He's_ _alive_ _, Maggie. We got him back_."

Maggie hunched over in her chair until her forehead hit the cool glass of the desk and she pressed her hand over her eyes, shaking.

Rhodey kept talking: " _We picked him up wandering the desert by himself, he's pretty banged up but he's okay. I wanted to call you first thing. We'll be on the first flight back to the States._ "

Maggie fought for control over herself as Rhodey spoke. She sat up, trying to breathe.

The office door creaked open to admit Pepper, carrying two cups of steaming coffee. When saw Maggie's face her own face went bone white and she dropped the cups, sending coffee dark and steaming over the carpet.

"Can I talk to him?" Maggie asked Rhodey breathlessly, and Pepper's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes gleamed with tears.

" _He's in with the doctors now, but we should be back in LA tomorrow morning._ "

Maggie swallowed, then said hoarsely: " _Thank you_ , Rhodey. Tell him… tell him…" her mouth opened and closed.

" _I know, Maggie,_ " Rhodey said in a softer voice. " _I've gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow._ "

He hung up before she could reply.

Maggie's fingers were rigid on her phone. She concentrated on relaxing her white-knuckled grip, and the phone tumbled to the carpet. She looked up.

Pepper stood frozen by the door, staring at her. "He's…?"

"Yeah," Maggie breathed, her eyes wide. She looked around, as if searching for something to do. She saw the smashed mugs on the floor and the spreading dark stain. "We should clean that up. This isn't my office anymore."

Pepper laughed. The sound was high and a bit hysterical, but it hit Maggie like a splash of cold water and it had her rising to her feet. Pepper hopped over the dark stain on the carpet and darted across the room until she'd thrown her arms around Maggie, squeezing tight and laughing. Maggie allowed herself to be held, and gripped Pepper back, and squeezed her eyes shut.

And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

_Alive._


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another midweek update! And the MCU timeline is a mess, I'm doing my best with what I have haha.

Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan

Rhodey flipped his phone shut, letting out a breath, then straightened his uniform and walked back into the medical wing. Tony sat on one of the crisp military beds, filthy and bloody and tired as medics flocked about him, taking his vitals. He wouldn't let them near the metal thing in his chest, except to rebandage it.

Rhodey would never in his life forget how he felt when he saw Tony kneeling in the sand, grinning tiredly up at him.

Tony glanced up at Rhodey as he walked back in. "Get sick of me already?"

"No, just spreading the good news," Rhodey smiled. He was sure that nothing Tony said would ever annoy him again. Rhodey gestured at his phone. "That was Maggie."

Tony stilled. "Is… is she…?"

"She's back in California," Rhodey said, realizing that Tony had a lot to catch up on. "She stepped up as interim CEO, and-"

"She _what_?" Tony sat up, making the doctors mutter. One of the cuts on his forehead started bleeding again.

"And she sounds real glad to hear we found you," Rhodey added. Her uneven breathing and stammered words stuck with him. "I haven't seen her myself since you went missing, but… I was worried about her." He frowned, not sure how much to admit. He'd been worried that Maggie had been involved in something underhanded, maybe illegal, with the leads she kept sending him. Nothing as dramatic as the leads they'd been receiving anonymously, however. And then he'd been worried about the pictures of her he'd seen in the newspapers and on the news channels - she didn't look like the Maggie he knew. She looked gaunt, and haunted. Not that anyone could blame her.

Tony still seemed to be processing his words. "And she's okay?"

Rhodey squeezed Tony's uninjured shoulder. "You can see for yourself tomorrow."

"As long as she doesn't leave," Tony said, his voice surprisingly fragile.

Rhodey smiled down at his friend. "If Maggie leaves before you get there, I'll eat my uniform."

* * *

May 3, 2009  
Stark Industries Headquarters, Los Angeles

Maggie had, somehow, gotten some sleep.

The day before, Pepper had spent fifteen minutes sobbing in Maggie's office before she cleaned herself up and marched right back out to get to work. The rest of the day had passed in a confusion of shock and celebration and pandemonium. Stark Industries had thrown a massive party at the news, bringing out the champagne they normally used to celebrate a completed project. Engineers mixed with lawyers and HR and cafeteria workers, all of them exuberant with joy. Maggie had been surprised to see more than a few tearful eyes.

Happy had to sit down for a full hour.

Maggie had drank and talked and celebrated in a state of blank-faced, disbelieving shock, not sure what she said or who she spoke to. She remembered when Obie had rushed back and picked her up in a big hug, his eyes bright. She didn't remember what he'd said. Stark Industries put out a statement, but thankfully Maggie didn't have to give it. Everyone who saw her knew that she wouldn't be up to it.

Somewhere in all the confusion and celebrating, Maggie had sat down in a lab and just… fallen asleep. She'd woken up at about four in the morning covered in blankets, with a bottle of water by her head.

She spent the pre-dawn hours working with J.A.R.V.I.S. to track down all the information she could - the DoD still didn't know much, but it was clear there'd been some kind of massive explosion at the place where Tony was being held deep in the mountains, and he'd been picked up a few hours later alone in the desert. The Ten Rings' base had been destroyed. But Maggie didn't dare think that the organisation itself had been destroyed. She put out feelers and algorithms, ready to trap them at the slightest sign of movement.

Then she saw the flight details Rhodey had sent her while she was asleep, and went downstairs to find Happy so he could drive her to the airbase when Tony's plane got in at 10:30. Stark Industries was already coming to life again, people flooding back through the doors on their way to their offices and labs. Maggie doubted anyone would get much work done today.

Obie stopped her at the doors, looking tired. He smiled at her and wrapped her in another hug. "There you are, kid. How are you?"

Maggie opened her mouth. She must have been asked that about a hundred times since yesterday, but she still didn't have an answer. The closest she could come to putting it into words was _unbelievably, outstandingly over the moon_. Tony was on a plane right now, flying home.

"Good," she said instead. "Tony's plane is getting in at 10:30, I know it's a few hours from now but I was going to get Happy to drive me there now."

Obie's brow creased. "I know how you feel. But I think it's best if you stay here for this morning, kid, there's a few things we need to get done."

Maggie's restless energy faded. "But Tony-"

"I know, believe me, I want to see him as badly as you do. But we won't be able to talk to him when he gets in anyway, they'll be taking him to hospital. We'll visit as soon as the doctors say we can. You're needed here in the meantime. I know it's not fair, but there's still a company that needs to be looked after." He squeezed her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said. Now that he'd stopped her in her tracks, she could see the frantic energy in the lobby. There had to be lots of things do do after the news - administration shifts, contacting stockholders… she let out a breath. "Okay."

* * *

Two hours later she found herself sitting in an emergency board meeting in the big conference room, the midmorning sun streaming through the windows onto her tight face. One of the assistants had brought her a fresh change of clothes so she didn't look like she'd slept in a laboratory overnight.

She and Obie had been run off their feet all morning, making calls and ensuring the company still ran smoothly after the massive shock. Stocks had seen a sharp increase. People seemed reassured to see Maggie at the helm, calmly leading.

Most of the board members were in New York so they'd set up a conference call, each of them speaking over each other, talking about stock figures and projects and draft press briefings and leadership structure. They discussed the best medical allowances for the returned CEO, still not sure of the specifics of his situation.

Maggie hadn't said anything in ten minutes. Obie and the few other execs physically in the room with her occasionally turned to ask her a question, but then answered it themselves before she could say anything. Normally she might at least attempt to look like she was running the meeting, but her mind was buzzing. She kept stringing together the bits of information in her head: the explosion of the Ten Rings hideout, the energy surge, the sparse information about the condition Tony had been in when he was found. _He's pretty banged up, but he's okay_ , Rhodey had told her.

She tried to picture how Tony might look, after three months of captivity in who knew what condition. Tried to picture what might have happened in his mind. His heart. She wondered if even now, he was hiding pain behind glibness and charm like he always did. The thought of it made her heart hurt.

She wished she'd had a chance to speak to Pepper this morning, but Pepper had gone with Happy to the airbase to meet Tony's plane. Maggie thought that Pepper might understand the anxieties and fears whirling in her chest, even as the whole country celebrated that Tony was safe.

_Safe._ Maggie wondered if Tony would ever feel safe again.

She fidgeted in her seat, playing with the edge of her suit sleeve. Her eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall: 9 _:40._

Her stomach twisted.

_This is stupid_ , she thought.

She drew in a long breath, plotting as her gaze swept across the men and women seated around the large conference table, and the blinking phone hub in the middle of the table. She licked her lips. "Does anyone want a cup of coffee?"

They looked over at her, startled at her interruption.

She smiled thinly. "It's been a long night, and I'm sure you won't miss me for two minutes. I'll duck out and grab some coffees. What would you all like?"

They relaxed, and one by one gave her their coffee orders. She wrote them diligently on the notepad in front of her, nodding and asking clarifying questions. _What kind of creamer do you take? Any allergies?_ Obie's eyes warmed as he watched her. He asked for a latte with oat milk.

Maggie left the room with a tired smile and a bob of her head. She strode down the corridor, eyes lifting, and tossed her list in the first trashcan she passed. She headed straight for the garage.

Her phone started ringing when she was about five minutes away, already on the highway. She reached into her pocket and turned it off.

* * *

Edwards Air Force Base, California

Tony's eyes closed as he felt the troop carrier's wheels touch down on the sunbaked runway. He wasn't the sentimental type normally, but he'd spent those three months in that cave dreaming of so many moments - and this was one of them.

Strapped in beside him, Rhodey grinned.

The plane coasted a while before coming to a stop, and Rhodey stood up to roll Tony toward the loading bay door on the wheelchair he'd been given back in Kabul. Tony had eyed it with a faint sense of nostalgia, thinking of a small, bright-eyed girl.

Finally, the loading ramp whirred and lowered, admitting the bright Californian sunlight. Tony let out a shaky breath.

The faded runway and distant desert of Edwards Air Base met him, and his eyes alighted on the vehicles and figures just before the loading ramp. There were a handful of soldiers standing guard around Happy, as grim as ever in sunglasses, and… Pepper. Her hair shone ginger in the sunlight, and even from inside the plane Tony could see the emotion on her face. He got to his feet, grunting under his breath, and Rhodey took his uninjured arm.

They walked together down the ramp, Tony trying to stand straight. They'd cleaned him up and given him a suit, so he almost felt like his old self - except for the sling on his arm and the foreign metal object in his chest. He kept his eyes fixed on Pepper's and his chest ached. _God,_ he'd missed her. More than he'd realized.

"Watch it, coming up here," Rhodey murmured, and Tony looked down so he didn't trip over the edge of the ramp. When he looked up, a few of the Air Force medics rolled a stretcher over.

"Are you kidding me with this?" Tony sighed. "Get rid of them."

Rhodey, shockingly, didn't argue - just waved a hand at the medics. Tony closed the distance to Pepper alone. Tears glinted on her cheeks as she smiled at him.

"Hm," Tony said, peering at her. If he was anyone else, he would have said _It's so good to see you again_. Instead, he said: "Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long-lost boss?"

Her smile broke wide. "Tears of joy. I hate job hunting."

Tony felt the corner of his own mouth tip up. "Well, holiday's over." Then he glanced around, taking in Happy standing by the car, and the assembled soldiers. He cleared his throat. "Is… Maggie?" he glanced back at Pepper. "Rhodey said she was back."

Pepper's smile softened, and she said gently: "She's at Stark Industries, you can see her after the hospital-"

"Screw hospital-" but he cut himself off at the sound of a rumbling engine, rapidly growing louder.

He and Pepper both looked over as a motorcycle roared onto the airfield. The rider wore a black helmet and gunned the bike up the runway, scattering airmen. Tony let out a shaky breath.

The rider brought the bike up to a screeching halt a few yards away from the plane, almost wrecking the thing as she leaped off, flung off her helmet and broke into a run toward Tony. Tony caught a glimpse of Maggie's flushed, windswept face and her blinding bright-eyed grin before she threw herself (as gently as possible) at him.

Pepper smiled as Tony and Maggie embraced each other.

Maggie gripped Tony wordlessly, her heart pounding and her breathing loud, and he held her back with his only functioning arm. Tony could feel her arms shaking. He pulled her tight to him, closing his eyes.

"Hey, Maggot," he murmured, and she let out a wordless sound.

But then she squeezed just a little too tightly, and he winced and flinched back, his hand rising to his chest.

Her face went white as she caught the movement.

He shot her a smile to show her he was okay. "You're not the only cyborg now," he said. His eyes flicked over her. She wore a rumpled suit, though her jacket was missing. She was thinner than he'd expected, with shadows under her eyes, but that blinding grin was working its way back into existence on her face.

_I thought I'd never see you again_ , he almost said. He swallowed. "Thought you couldn't come," he said instead.

Maggie shrugged. "Just wanted to make a dramatic entrance."

He couldn't help his answering smile. He jerked his head. "Come on. Are you taking the bike, or coming in the car?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Wouldn't be the first time I've abandoned my bike at an airport."

* * *

Maggie slid into the company car along with Tony and Pepper, after Happy had welcomed his boss back with typical grim-faced protectiveness.

Maggie couldn't stop shaking, though she hoped no one else noticed. The adrenaline from her too-fast ride here, that first glimpse of Tony standing on the runway… she swallowed, and stuffed her shaking fingers in her pockets. Pepper was arguing with Tony already, telling him to go to hospital, but Maggie just stared at him.

She'd been expecting the worst, but physically Tony actually looked… better than she'd expected. His arm in a sling, a few scabbing lacerations on his face, the flash of pain when she'd hugged him too hard. But even as she watched him bicker with Pepper like they always had, she could see that something was vitally, drastically different.

She couldn't put her finger on it. He was… more still, than she was used to. He didn't fidget like he normally did, just sat there with preternatural stillness, his every move calm and assured. But that wasn't it.

"I've been in captivity for three months," he cut in over Pepper's objections, his voice even. "There are two things I want to do. I want an American cheeseburger" - _that_ sounded more like him - "and the other..."

"That's enough of that," Pepper sighed, looking away.

"- is not what you think," Tony continued. "I want you to call for a press conference now."

His eyes slid over to Maggie, and she realized what it was - his eyes. She'd never been surprised by what she saw in his face before. To her, Tony had always been, if not predictable, then understandable. But he met her eyes and for a moment there was _darkness_ there, and it shocked her to her core.

His eyes were older. Physically, he looked better than she'd expected. But this was what she'd been afraid of: what had happened inside his head? His heart? Something had changed, and she was terrified to find out what.

"... a press conference?" Pepper questioned, unaware of the shock that had just crashed over Maggie like a lightning bolt.

"Yeah," Tony said smoothly, his eyes on Maggie for a moment more. _What are you up to?_ she wanted to ask. She wondered what he saw in _her_. "Hogan, drive."

"What on earth for?" Pepper kept protesting.

"Cheeseburger first," Tony said, as if that closed the debate.

* * *

Maggie didn't speak much for the rest of the car ride, too focused on watching Tony's every move. He seemed quite happy to fill the silence, talking about his cheeseburgers and Pepper's haircut and how hard it was to itch his knee with one arm strapped to his side.

Maggie stayed wary, trying to figure out what it was that had her instincts jangling, but after a time she found herself just staring at Tony, glad he was there. Glad he was talking, and laughing at Happy's flat tone, and breathing. For a selfish moment she didn't care about the bruises, or the darkness in his eyes, because he had come back to her. Then she felt a horrendous crash of guilt, because it had not been Tony who left in the first place.

When they arrived at the SI turning circle, what seemed like half the company was outside, cheering. And Obie was first among them, launching forward with wide arms and a wide smile as the car door opened.

"Look at this, huh?" he grinned, and pulled Tony in for a hug. When he pulled back, he looked over Tony's face and then at Maggie, still sitting in the car. "Thought we were going to meet at the hospital!"

Maggie avoided his eyes.

"No, I'm fine," Tony murmured as he took another burger from Happy.

Maggie climbed out of the car but hung back as they all headed into the building, letting Tony enjoy the spotlight. Relieved it wasn't on her for once. Tony became glib and charming again, waving at people in the crowd and leading the way into the building like… well, like he owned the place. And Maggie wondered if she'd imagined what she'd seen in his face in the car. _We've barely said ten words to each other_ , _maybe I did imagine it._ She stuck by Pepper's side.

Obie slung an arm over Tony's shoulder, his eyes gleaming. "Hey, look who's here!" he called to the crowd as they strode into the packed press room to yet more applause.

Maggie wanted to hang back with Pepper, but Obie set a hand on the back of her elbow and propelled her to the front of the room. She accepted pats on the back and smiling nods from the gathered journalists and employees, and realised that she was still missing her suit jacket, leaving her in just a blouse. In fact, Tony looked better prepared for this press conference than she did.

When they'd made it through the press of people Tony and Obie headed for the podium, but Maggie managed to dart to the side, a few feet to the left of the podium and out of the way. She caught her breath and ran her eyes over the crowd. All of them here ready to welcome Tony home. Maybe everything could go back to normal.

She spotted Pepper up the back, and froze. Pepper beside stood none other than _Phil Coulson,_ smiling politely at him as he spoke. He looked somehow almost exactly as he had when he'd tracked Maggie down in Peru: the same dark suit and bland, polite demeanour. Maggie's eyes narrowed. _What does_ he _want?_ She was considering pushing back through the crowd to confront him, but then Obie took his place at the lectern and the press of journalists began to quiet down.

Maggie glanced back, and spotted Tony sitting down in front of the lectern, making himself comfortable. His eyes flickered to her, dark and heavy for a moment, and she hesitated. She could see thoughts whirling behind those eyes, and her brow furrowed. _What are you planning?_

But then he looked away again.

Obie looked down over the lectern at Tony, perplexed. Maggie had spent the whole ride here thinking so hard about Tony that she had forgotten to wonder why he'd called a press conference. Unease stirred in her gut. _Maybe he just wants to ease doubts, step in formally as CEO?_

"Hey, would it be alright if everyone sat down?" Tony called, pulling another cheeseburger out from inside his jacket. "Why don't you just sit down? That way you can see me, and I can… y'know, little less formal."

The crowd of bemused journalists shared glances with each other and then slowly, confusedly lowered themselves to the ground. Maggie sat down cross-legged on the floor. Obie sat down on the podium beside Tony. Everyone watched Tony chew on his cheeseburger. Whispers scurried through the room.

Tony looked up again, but this time over at Maggie. "It's good to see you, Mags. Sounds like you've done a great job while I've been gone."

Every eye turned to Maggie, but she only looked back at Tony. She smiled back at him, even though it hurt. "I'm just glad you're back."

There were murmurs in the crowd, and a flicker of camera flashes. Tony's eyes stayed on her for a moment, warm, before he turned to Obie, who knelt beside him. "Good to see you too," he murmured.

The unease in Maggie's gut twisted, and she wondered if after everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, she was about to be sick on the floor.

"Good to see you," Obie smiled, and reached out to grip his shoulder-

"I never got to say goodbye to Dad," Tony said.

Obie froze. Maggie froze.

Tony turned to address the crowd of journalists. "I never got to say goodbye to my father."

Maggie sat rooted to the spot, staring. Staring at the darkness Tony now showed everyone in that room, glimmering in his eyes. His gaze flickered to her, just for a moment, before he stared back out resolutely at his silent, solemn audience. She had a flash-memory of their dad, his face broken and glowing with firelight.

Tony set down the cheeseburger. "There's questions that I would have asked him," he said evenly. "I would have asked him how he felt about what this company did."

Maggie's blank face furrowed into a frown. _Surely…_

He continued. "If he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels."

A heavy, pregnant pause. Maggie could see more than a few people glancing over at her, as if to gauge her reaction. She wasn't sure what was on her face. She wasn't sure what she _felt_. She didn't know where this was going.

She'd never seen Tony look so serious.

"I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them," he said, not a tremor in his voice. Maggie's stomach sank. _Our weapons._ "And I saw that I" - he took a heavy breath - "had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability."

He paused. A few of the seated journalists called his name, almost a whisper, their hands raised. Tony gestured at a young man in the front row.

"Hey, Ben," he murmured. Maggie didn't realize that he'd learned their names.

"What happened over there?" Ben asked, the question Maggie had been too afraid to voice.

Tony stared back at Ben for a few moments, before suddenly his voice rose and he got to his feet. "I - I had my eyes opened," he said, his gaze sliding over Maggie once more before he circled behind the lectern. "I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up." He stood there, above them all, his face set. Steeling himself. "And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries-"

He may as well have set off a bomb right there in the press room. Everyone in the room shot to their feet, shouting questions, the cameras suddenly blinding, and Obie launched up with his hands out as if to hold Tony back.

In the midst of all that pandemonium, Maggie stayed seated. For a moment she only stared. And then a grin spread across her face, growing so wide that her cheeks ached.

Tony was still talking, even as Obie pushed him away from the microphones: "-until such a time as I can decide what the future of this company will be, what direction it should take, one that I'm comfortable with, and is consistent with the highest good for this country as well." Obie succeeded in getting him away from the lectern and took over, hands out as if quelling whatever had just happened, a reassuring smile on his face as he instantly started damage control.

Maggie didn't listen to it. She just sat there, smiling up at her wounded, impossibly brave brother as he stood above her.

Tony finally looked down and spotted Maggie, and his eyes widened at what he saw on her face. As if he'd been afraid of what might be there.

The room was still in uproar, journalists stretching their hands in the air and clamoring, Obie smooth-talking. Tony glanced around at them all, then looked back at Maggie. He jerked his head.

She shot to her feet and followed him out through the crowd, pressing through jostling elbows and shouted questions. She wasn't sure what her face showed them. They made it through and Pepper was there, eyes wide, gesturing them out a private door.

The door closed behind them, dimming the clamor of the press room. Tony's shoulders heaved with his racing breaths.

_Shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries._

Maggie burst into tears. One moment she stood behind the closed door, eyes burning, and the next she was weeping, face covered by her shaking hands, as her brother slowly turned to look at her.

She was sure it was some kind of delayed shock reaction to having Tony back, and at the announcement. She realized she had not cried for three months, had not cried the whole time Tony had been missing. Emotion she couldn't name flooded out of her, making her shoulders shake and her chest ache.

_You're the Wyvern_ , she told herself crossly. _Pull yourself together_.

Tony, looking a little stunned himself, cautiously paused a few feet away from Maggie. He cocked an eyebrow at the tears streaming down her face.

Maggie shook her head, opened and closed her mouth. That blinding grin from before still teased at her lips despite her sobbing, probably making her look crazy.

She met Tony's dark eyes. "I didn't know how to ask," she finally said.

Realization crashed over Tony, making his brows pinch. He sighed. "I don't think I would have listened," he murmured. His gaze settled heavy on her face. "But I would now, Maggot. Let's go."

Maggie wiped her face, still shuddering, and let Tony take her arm.

* * *

Obie shut down the press conference and, practically roaring, gathered Pepper and the PR team in a separate room. He was in full-on damage control mode, and Pepper couldn't blame him. She still felt a bit detached from it all, as if her body hadn't quite accepted that _yes, Tony just did that_.

She disguised her numbness by getting started on sending emails and monitoring the press coverage, which was already exploding. She found herself scrolling through pictures and footage from the exact moment Tony had announced it, as if to convince herself. And she found herself struck by the image of him: steady despite his injuries, steely-eyed, determined. And in most of the photos, depending on the angle, you could see Maggie too: sitting on the ground a few feet away from Tony, grinning up at him with the widest smile Pepper had ever seen.

* * *

Maggie followed Tony to the last place anyone would expect them to go: the main manufacturing plant, with the glowing blue arc reactor in the lobby.

Maggie used her swipe card to get them through the doors, and then Tony strode up to the railing surrounding the massive reactor, his face tinged blue by its glow. Maggie came up to stand beside him, setting her hands on the cool railing. The reactor was one of the quietest energy generators in the world, only letting out a low, resonant hum. Maggie cocked her head as she looked up at it. Their father's creation.

She realized that she and Tony had not been alone together since that cafe in Marseilles.

Tony turned to look at her. "Be honest," he said with a glint in his eye. "Are you relieved because I'm back, or because you don't have to be in control of the company any more?"

She smirked. "Who says I'm relieved at all?" But her smile soon faded as she took in Tony's injured face. She had so many questions. Half of them she was afraid to ask. She jerked her head in the direction of the press room. "Are you sure about that?"

"I've never been more sure about anything," he said firmly. He eyed her face. "I… thought about asking you before I did it, but…" his jaw worked.

"You thought I'd say no."

He huffed a laugh. "Truthfully I had _no idea_ what you'd say." He cocked his head, and she knew he was thinking of her blinding smile. "But… you wanted this."

She met his gaze wordlessly. Her mind was still reeling. She had thought that shutting down the weapons division was an impossible task, and maybe it still was, but Tony seemed to see paths where she thought there were none: he just _announced_ it, like it was that easy. And they both knew this was going to cause _chaos_ , but even though she'd been CEO for the last month or so, Maggie could not bring herself to regret it.

Tony eyed her face. "This is why you left, isn't it?"

Her lips pressed together. "Yes." _Mostly._

He closed his eyes, gripping the railing with the hand not in a sling. "I should have realized. But I… I didn't see it, not until I was out there, seeing our weapons in _their_ hands. Seeing what our weapons could do." His hand in the sling brushed his chest.

Maggie felt something hot roiling inside her chest. "They had our weapons."

His face darkened. "Yes."

Her jaw ground. Of everything she disliked about the company, she hadn't quite expected _this_. _The Ten Rings._ She swallowed lava.

"I should have told you how I felt," Maggie whispered, looking up at the humming arc reactor. "But I didn't know how. I just… I realized I was making horrific things, and I didn't… you were… and there was _Dad-_ "

"I know," Tony said. He let go of the railing and reached out, and the next moment Maggie sank into his one-armed hug. They gripped each other, though she was careful not to hurt him again. He let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry about what I said," Maggie said, her chin on his shoulder. "I… I've been cruel."

Three months of agony tore at her lungs.

"I'm sorry too," Tony said. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, like he used to when she was little. Maggie closed her eyes.

"Tell me you're okay," she whispered.

He paused, and her heart stalled. But then he said: "I'm going to be. I'm… well, I'm not even in one piece, but-"

"But neither am I," Maggie chuckled at the old joke as she pulled away to look him over. He did _seem_ alright. "So what now?" she asked.

Tony fidgeted. "Mags…" he glanced around, as if checking the area was clear (Happy had tracked them down and was waiting by a dark car outside, but he was scanning the perimeter). Maggie narrowed her eyes.

But then Tony's uninjured hand went to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Maggie covered her eyes. " _Agh,_ what's wrong with you! Don't flash me!"

" _Maggot_ ," he said exasperatedly, and she finally peeled her hands away from her eyes.

Her stomach dropped at what she saw, followed by a twist of nausea.

Tony had a _machine_ in his chest. She instantly recognised it for what it was: an arc reactor, miniaturized to the size of a fist, lightyears beyond the huge reactor to her left. But for once she didn't care about the science, or the genius. Because it was _in his chest._ She could see the thin, pale line of scarring around the metal. The reactor glowed, utterly silent.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered, torn between backing away and moving closer.

Tony's eyes shadowed at the look on her face. He hadn't been expecting it. "This is what's keeping me alive," he explained. "I got hit by shrapnel. This" - he tapped the cool metal - "is powering an electromagnet keeping the shrapnel from working its way into my heart."

Maggie's fingers curled into fists. She wanted to fly across that vast ocean and tear them all apart. Instead she just swallowed, her eyes still fixed on the reactor in her brother's chest. Tony watched her minute movements, his gaze focused. "Tell me," she said.

And Tony did. He explained about the missile blast, and the shrapnel, and a kind man named Yinsen who had operated to save Tony's life and attached him to a car battery. He told her about living in a cave for three months. He buttoned his shirt again, concealing the glow.

Maggie couldn't move. "Who had you?" She knew, she _knew_ , but-

"They were called the Ten Rings," Tony said, his eyes darting away. "Rhodey said that none of them made it out."

Maggie pursed her lips. From what she understood of the Ten Rings, they wouldn't have had just one base, but… she shook away the thoughts. "How did _you_ get out?" she whispered.

Something flashed over his face, but then they both noticed movement through the window: Obie, rolling up on a segway, with a cigar in his mouth.

"Meet me back at home," Tony said.

She cocked her head. "You're planning something." She knew the look. She'd _worn_ that look. She didn't expect to see it on Tony's face. "Are you going to let me in on these plans?" She had some plans of her own: to track down whoever else had Stark weapons, track down the rest of the Ten Rings, and rip them to shreds.

Tony's lip quirked. "You know, I think I just might."

She eyed him for a moment longer, before nodding and heading for the door. Tony set his hand on the railing again and looked up at their father's arc reactor.

Maggie walked out the door just as Obie handed his segway over to Happy and turned, his gaze thunderous. His eyes softened a little as they landed on her.

"Maggie," he said, taking the cigar from his mouth. His gaze flicked over her. "Did you know he was going to do this?"

"No."

He tipped his head towards the manufacturing plant, where they could both see Tony standing in front of the reactor through the window. "Come help me talk him out of this, Maggie. I know you don't want the top job but you've put in all this hard work-"

"I'm sorry, Obie," she said, her shoulders straight. "That's the last thing I want to do."

He peered at her. "That's why you haven't been here all this time. You agree with him."

She shrugged helplessly. "I just couldn't do it any more."

"Hm." Obie drew another puff from his cigar, then put a hand on her shoulder. "Maggie, making weapons is what this company _does_. It's what your father did, and it's kept this world safe. It's not easy, but that's what makes it right."

The words struck her, needling at all those guilts she still held. She drew in a deep breath. "It can't be the only right thing," she said.

"It's the only thing we can do," he said firmly.

But Maggie knew that he was wrong. She had been trying to make the world a slightly better place for over two years now, without killing anyone. It might be illegal, but it felt more right than when she'd been working here. She just looked back at Obie wordlessly, and after a moment he sighed and turned to go into the manufacturing plant.

Maggie almost called after him: _good luck._ Because she'd seen the determination in Tony's eyes. She knew that there was nothing Obie or anyone could say to change his mind.

* * *

Maggie drove herself back to the mansion, put on a pot of coffee, and got changed out of her stiff work clothes. Her eyes itched and her brain felt like a melted puddle after the morning's events.

When Tony got back, driven by Happy, he walked into the living room to find Maggie stretched out on the couch, massaging the bit of limb below her right knee, sipping coffee. She hadn't taken off the prosthetic in over a day.

Tony's eyes then went to the rest of the house, taking in the wide windows overlooking the ocean, and the clean, tastefully-decorated interior.

Maggie realized this was the first time he'd been home in three months. She watched him carefully: he looked exhausted, with shadows under his eyes and his hair a mess. He'd taken his arm out of the sling.

" _Welcome home, sir,_ " said J.A.R.V.I.S., and Tony's tired, guarded expression broke into a smile.

"Good to be back, J. You keep this place running while I was gone?"

" _Of course, sir_."

"You're really back," Maggie murmured.

Tony glanced over at her again and spread his arms, though it made him wince. "I really am."

Maggie wondered if she would still be able to smile, still crack jokes, after three months of captivity. Her heart ached as she looked at him. "Tony, I'm… I'm sorry I couldn't…"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "What, singlehandedly stop me being kidnapped by terrorists?"

She frowned. "Yes." _I should have kept trying to find you. I shouldn't have come back_. She wondered if the guilt of it would always be with her.

Tony smiled at her, unaware of her guilt, and came over to slump on the couch beside her. She eyed him a few moments, trying to figure out what he was up to.

"What did Obie say?" she asked, to break the silence.

Tony sighed. "He's not happy with me, but he sees the arc reactor for what it is - an opportunity." Maggie could just see the glow of it, shrouded by his shirt. "I promised I'd stay low for a while, wait for things to blow over with the company."

"That makes sense." She nodded. "They were planning to give you a few weeks medical leave anyway."

"I don't need it."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Is that thing in your chest up to code, then?"

He looked down. "I do need a new one." He met her eyes. "Want to help?"

Maggie pressed her lips together and considered Tony. He seemed more at ease after the press conference, but she could still see that darkness in his eyes. Something was driving him. And he was… he was being cautious. Keeping things close to the chest.

Tony sighed. "We've done it before, haven't we? Worked together to make something other than a weapon?"

She thought of her implants when she was a child, her leg. "Okay," she said simply. "But you have to tell me how you got out of that cave."

He eyed her for a few moments, and she realized that _this_ was the secret he held so close to his chest. "Deal."

They went down to the workshop, where Tony spent a few minutes looking around at the space before they got to work. J.A.R.V.I.S. scanned the reactor in Tony's chest, and Maggie and Tony pored over the design. Maggie had known at first sight that the reactor was a stroke of genius, but she didn't realize…

"You made this in a _cave_?" She and Tony stood over his main workspace, gazing at the holographic design of the miniaturised arc reactor. The light glowed on their faces, in their eyes.

"Pretty cool, right?" He acknowledged.

"But how did you…" she reached out to turn the design, eyeing it. She didn't understand how he'd managed to generate the same power output with a much smaller device. "Oh. Palladium. You've used it as the conductor, that would certainly reduce the energy runoff..."

Tony's eyes glinted.

Her brow furrowed. "But where did you get - oh. The Dart missile." Her gaze flicked to Tony, and he nodded. The last missile she had made for Stark Industries: the lightweight, destructive weapon. It had Palladium filigree on its circuit board. She swallowed thickly. "They had Dart missiles." The idea of weapons she had personally designed in their hands added insult to injury.

Tony cocked his head. "I'm lucky they did. And I'm lucky that _you_ convinced SI that the Palladium elements were worth the cost."

"Lucky you remembered," Maggie breathed. She cleared her throat. "Let's get to work."

They started work on a new and improved design for the Arc Reactor, focusing on sourcing the best materials available and fine-tuning Tony's already genius work.

And once Maggie wasn't so caught up in the excitement of discovery, she glanced sideways at Tony. "Will you tell me how you got out?"

She didn't know much. Just that there'd been an energy surge, and an explosion. And she could tell that the Arc Reactor was built to power so much more than an electromagnet.

Tony, busy twisting lines of light with his fingers, let out a sigh. "Maggie… just promise me you won't tell anyone else. I think the Arc Reactor is the way to go for SI, but it's not… it's not ready."

She met his eyes. She knew what he meant - he didn't want to risk the reactor falling into anyone else's hands. "Of course."

But he held her gaze, his eyes suddenly hard. "Can I trust you?"

Maggie's eyes widened. Tony had never had to ask her that before. He'd never had a personal agenda before. And she couldn't put together all the pieces of his plan, but… she knew what this meant. That he wasn't ready to put his faith in the company, or anyone. He was going to play this close to the chest. But he _wanted_ to trust her.

"Yes," she said simply. _With this, you can._

"Okay," he said, the hardness fading.

And then he told her about how he'd built a suit of armor.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day designing the new reactor, and when they were finished they left it to J.A.R.V.I.S. to manufacture it. Tony seemed inclined to stay in the workshop, but Maggie dragged him back upstairs.

She made them each a cup of tea, since there was no food in the house. "You need to rest," she told an uncharacteristically silent Tony. "Heal."

They sipped their tea in silence at the table, tiredness tugging at their eyelids. Maggie propped her head up with one hand. Her thoughts were torn every which way - Tony and his metal armor and his interesting new agenda, the mess they'd left behind at Stark Industries, and what lay beyond: The Ten Rings, and everything the Wyvern had been focused on before Maggie had returned to California.

She didn't notice the shift to Tony's face as he looked out the window at the dark expanse of the ocean. She _did_ notice when he set down his mug and stood up, heading for the balcony. She blinked, then followed him.

Tony slid open the glass door and stepped out into the cool evening air. He leaned against the railing, his face set in stone.

Maggie hesitantly stood beside him. She wasn't sure what he needed.

A long silence passed.

Finally, Tony spoke: "Did you think you were going to die, in that car crash?"

Maggie's skin prickled. They hadn't talked about that night in over fifteen years. She let out a breath and leaned her forearms against the balcony railing, thinking about telling him about the metal armed soldier and her search. But she glanced at his shadowed face, and decided against it. He had enough villains in his life at the moment. So she simply said:

"Yes."

He still looked out at the ocean. "Were you scared?"

"Of course I was," she said softly. A long pause. "Were you?" She didn't have to specify what she meant. Shrapnel in his chest, three months in a cave with monsters.

"Yes, but…" Tony's face twisted.

"What?"

"I was also _disappointed_." His brow knitted. Maggie let him think it through. "It's such a stupid cliche, but I felt disappointed that I was going to die and I hadn't… I wasn't proud of the things I'd done, you know? I'd want to die for a good reason, and dying because of my own stupid weapons doesn't seem like a good enough reason. Yinsen… he told me not to waste my life."

Maggie wished she could take that weight for him. She sighed and followed his gaze out to the dark ocean which seemed to swallow up the sky. "Being afraid like that… it changes something inside you," she said softly. "Even when you're safe again, you don't… you don't feel safe in the way you did before. Because you've seen where the monsters lurk." This was as close as she had come to honesty. She swallowed it. She could feel Tony's eyes on her. "But you… I _see_ you, Tony. I don't know what you're planning, other than making the Arc Reactor, but I can see you've come back with a purpose. And if you promise me that this plan of yours will make the world _better_ , and that it won't destroy you, then…" her voice hitched and she turned to meet his gaze. "Then I will do everything I can to help you."

Tony watched her for a long moment, his eyes burning. Finally, he nodded.

"And for the record," she added. "I've never been disappointed in you." Salt breeze washed over them.

"But you haven't been proud of me either," he said wryly.

"Of course I have!" she said indignantly. "Though I will say that I've never been prouder of you than I was today."

He smiled, still looking out at the far horizon. "I was also disappointed because… we didn't leave things well, the two of us." He turned to look at her, and Maggie's heart twisted. "There's so much I don't know about you, Mags. You're… you've always been independent, but I feel like I don't know you. I feel like you lead a whole other life separate from mine." Maggie wondered if she could tell her heart was racing. "Hell, I don't even know what your favorite food is."

His words struck like a punch to her chest. _My brother thought he was going to die, not knowing his sister._ Maggie stared at him for a few long moments. She opened her mouth, not sure what to say.

_I do lead a whole other life_ , she thought about saying. _I am the Wyvern._

But… Tony didn't need more darkness, right now.

So instead she reached out wordlessly, and pulled her brother in for a hug. He stepped into it, his brows pinched, and when they pulled apart again Maggie's eyes were damp. Tony looked rough - the scrapes on his face standing out against his pale skin.

"Come on, big brother," she murmured. "My favourite food is pizza. And I'm going to order us some." Her eyes glinted, and he slumped with relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment with your thoughts if you've got the time! x
> 
> Are we all excited for WandaVision?


	14. Chapter Thirteen

The next morning Maggie woke up at the crack of dawn, wrote Tony a quick note, and drove back to her own apartment. She brought her wingpack and her computer hub, which had been sitting under her childhood bed for a month. She had work to do.

It took her an hour of scouring through her algorithms and information drops to discover what she'd already feared: The Ten Rings were still active.

For a moment, she debated telling Tony. But no, he needed time to heal. She cracked her knuckles and took her first step back into her shadow world.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Pepper was watching the news coverage on Tony's press conference when the man himself called her and asked how big her hands were.

A minute later she found herself down in his workshop, staring at Tony with the metal cavity in his bare chest and the glowing machine in his hand.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" she asked, eyes wide.

His voice was impossibly calm. "I just want you to reach in, and you're gonna gently lift the wire out-"

Her eyes darted to his face. "Where's Maggie?"

"She vanished again," he said evenly and jerked his head at his worktable, where Pepper spotted a scrap of paper with a scrawled note: _Be back later - M_. "She's good at that."

Pepper glanced back down at the metal cavity in Tony's chest. She could see wiring at the bottom, and her stomach turned. "Is it safe?"

"Yeah," Tony said, in the same way he used to say _S_ _ure, I'll be at that meeting._

Pepper squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. _Oh, this is going to go terribly._

Two minutes later, after Tony had briefly gone into cardiac arrest, Pepper tried to calm her racing heart as she wiped gunk off her shaking hands and picked up the reactor that Tony had asked her to set aside.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"That?" Tony looked over his shoulder. He already looked much better, after one night back at home. "Destroy it. Incinerate it."

"You don't want to keep it?"

"Pepper," he said, with a smile playing at his lips. "I've been called many things. 'Nostalgic' is not one of them."

She looked back down at the glowing reactor, which had kept him alive long enough to get here. "Will that be all, Mr Stark?"

"That will be all, Miss Potts."

* * *

Maggie spent the day casting out nets for information, the first step in her hunt. When she looked up from her computer screen and saw the sun setting over Los Angeles, she packed up and headed back to the mansion.

When she arrived back, her chest heavy and her mind full, Tony looked over from where he'd been standing by the window and his still-bruised face broke open in a smile.

"Welcome back, drifter."

Maggie's eyes zeroed in on the blue light glowing from behind his t-shirt, brighter than it had been yesterday. "You didn't do it yourself," she said, aghast.

He tapped the glowing circle and it let out a soft _tink_ like tapping against glass. "Nah, Pepper helped."

She dropped her bag on the floor. " _Tony-_ "

"What, it went fine!"

She shook her head and strode over to join him at the window. "So, what's your plan now?"

He glanced back out over the ocean. She could see him thinking.

"You haven't decided yet," she realized. He didn't respond. "You've just had that press conference and you're not _sure-_ " she swallowed the words. Shook her head. "You have time. Forget the company, forget the stocks." They'd been plummeting all day. She reached out to put a hand on Tony's shoulder, then thought better of it. He was still healing. "You need to take time to heal. I don't know what your plan is, and I can tell you're not ready to share yet. But just… promise me you'll take a few weeks."

He eyed her for a few moments, his eyes dark and solemn. But she saw him relent. "Sure. And what are you going to do?"

"Well, you've put me out of a job," she said with a teasing smile. "But… I'm thinking I'll stick around."

He looked so, so pleased. It made Maggie feel guilty all over again. "Want to order in Chinese?"

She beamed. "That sounds great."

* * *

Stark Industries, California

Obadiah Stane closed his office door, then settled back in his desk chair, thinking. He'd been working flat out since yesterday, surrounded by people, and hadn't had a chance to think through his next moves. _It's all a game of chess_ , he reminded himself. _And I'll never be the pawn._

The steadily-simmering anger surged, and he frowned. He'd _almost_ had Maggie in the perfect position for him to take over, but then Tony had shown back up in the desert and the girl had grown something resembling a spine. She'd been so close to giving him the company entirely, and that was the ideal scenario: no one could question his legitimacy as CEO if he'd been willingly given the company by a Stark.

He needed to test the waters now. Tony had played his hand, but he needed to see if Maggie could be bent back into that uncertain, unready leader.

He pressed his fingers to his temples and nodded. _Yes. Test the waters, push and prod the various pieces on the board. Let the dust settle as I sow uncertainty._ It wouldn't be hard to shake the board and the public's faith in Tony, after that display yesterday. _I'll see where Maggie's at soon. If I play this right I can edge Tony out. And either Maggie will play into my hands, or I'll knock her off the board too._

He let out a long sigh and steepled his fingers. He'd been patiently planning for _years_ now. Playing the trusted, unambitious uncle figure. But one day, _soon_ , they'd all see that he'd been the king all along.

* * *

Maggie and Tony were left at odds for a few weeks. What with Tony's orders to lie low and Maggie's sudden lack of employment, they hung around the mansion together, ordering in food and watching movies and healing. They even went swimming, once Tony was sure the reactor in his chest was waterproof.

Maggie kept a close watch on Tony. Despite their idleness she could see plans germinating and blooming behind his eyes, but he obeyed her: he rested. He seemed more grounded than she had ever known him: the slightly chaotic charm was still there, but there was something about him… purpose, she thought. He didn't throw any wild parties, which she had half expected. In fact he seemed uncomfortable around other people now, stiff and hyper-aware. He spent his time drifting in and out of his workshop, fixing up the half-finished hotrod, though a few times after welding he came upstairs pale and shaking. Maggie understood.

There was something darker to the two of them these days.

Maggie did not rest. Every spare second where she wasn't with Tony, she was gathering intelligence. She'd learned that she didn't have to traverse the world to be the Wyvern now. She was well established enough that she had the resources and the connections to work from her computer. And she had a very specific focus now: hunting the Ten Rings.

The organisation had gone even more shadowy now that one of their bases had been blown up. But Maggie traced echoes of them, tracking down weapons deals and intelligence traded.

Her new focus meant that she turned down a lot of jobs she would have taken as the Wyvern. Though she did leave the mansion once, three weeks in, when one of the people she'd been tracking before Tony's kidnapping popped their head up in Atlanta. A ballsy move for a man with known ties to Somali insurgents, and it cost him. The Wyvern caught up to the man in his darkened hotel room, recorded his terrified confession on a burner phone, then turned both him and the phone in to the local FBI unit. Maggie was back home by breakfast.

She finally had the time to update her Winter Soldier investigation, and cursed when she realised there'd been a hit on an Iranian physicist months ago. It wasn't confirmed to be _him_ \- none of them were - but she could feel it in her gut. _He's out there._ Gritting her teeth, she pushed on with her other investigations.

Maggie was glad of the chance to mentally distance herself from Stark Industries after the past month of it swallowing her whole, but even she couldn't help but notice its spectacular drop in the stock markets. The company itself was on a kind of hold, with the Board taking their time trying to sort things out in meetings. They kept the factories going and people employed, but they didn't open any new contracts. Maggie could see what they were doing: stalling. But it _literally_ wasn't her business anymore. _Trust the process,_ she told herself. So she enjoyed the company of her brother.

* * *

Come her and Tony's birthdays, just four days apart, Maggie knew a birthday party wouldn't be in the cards. So she smuggled Tony out of the mansion, attempting to disguise him with a hoodie and sunglasses, and took him to a diner they both liked for lunch.

"Happy thirty ninth birthday, old man," she toasted him over their cheeseburgers and fries.

"Happy twenty third, infant," he shot back, and they clinked their beer bottles together.

Maggie beamed at him. When they got home, she knew Happy and Pepper would be waiting for them with party hats and presents, and Maggie would give Tony his gift from her: a new phone to replace the one that had been blown up in Afghanistan, this time with a single panic button for emergencies.

But for now, this was enough: wearing poorly-conceived disguises with her brother in a diner where they could be just any two people. Tony's eyes glinted at her. He'd _survived._ He'd made it to this birthday, with her. And she'd see him through to many more to come.

Her good mood lasted until the doorway, where they walked out into the glare of sunshine - and a lucky reporter's dictaphone.

"Mr Stark," the eager middle-aged man blurted, his forehead sweaty. Someone inside the diner must have tipped him off. "Mr Stark, how are you coping now that you're back home?"

"Doing great," Tony said evenly, his usual smoothness sliding over his face. "Missed the food here."

Maggie sighed, expecting the next question to be about SI. But to her surprise, the journalist turned his dictaphone on her as she tried to squeeze past. "Ms Stark, what's it like having your brother back?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking me how I feel now that my brother's no longer being held hostage by terrorists?" She eyeballed him, and the man squirmed. Tony watched them with a quirk to his mouth. "Leave us alone," she said shortly.

And the reporter left. Small miracles. Maggie could practically see the headlines: _Margaret Stark is a dick on her brother's birthday_.

Tony smiled at her.

She sighed at him. "Let's go home."

In the car on the way home, Obie texted Tony: _I thought you said you'd lay low._

Tony read the text out to Maggie as she drove, then tapped the phone against the reactor hidden behind his shirt. "I think we'll have to stick to takeout from now on, Magnolia."

* * *

June 4, 2009

A few days later, Tony walked into the living room in jeans and a leather jacket, his beard groomed and his eyes gleaming. Maggie, in pajama pants and an old t-shirt, stared.

"Where are you going?"

"Edwards Air Force base," he said, completely self-assured.

 _Rhodey._ Maggie frowned. Rhodey had kept his distance the past weeks - he'd checked in to make sure Tony was healing and safe, but as the weapons contractor consultant for the Air Force he'd been… busy, since Tony's big announcement.

Tony caught Maggie's frown. "I need to do this. I can't just… it's great to be back, Maggie, but I have to-"

She eyed the look on his face: there were those blooming plans, again. She nodded slowly. "It's time." Whatever it was that he'd set in motion with that press conference, he was ready to act on it. To bring Rhodey in on his plans. Her heart twisted. "Okay."

He cocked his head, and his styled hair flopped to the side. "Come with me."

She wrinkled her nose. "No thanks." This was between him and Rhodey.

"Come on, Mags, you know these pilot types like you."

She shook her head, thinking of the air base, and how it had felt walking those corridors after they'd rejected her. "Rhodey's your friend, Tony. Whatever it is you're after, he'll listen to you."

Tony arched an eyebrow, considering, before he shrugged. "Alright. See you soon."

* * *

Tony came back angry.

Maggie heard his car as it roared down the driveway, and set aside her computer full of illegal secrets just before he burst through the front door. She caught the look on his face and hesitated.

"What happened? Rhodey didn't come with you?"

"No," Tony said shortly. He stormed straight for the door down to the workshop, his jaw tight.

Maggie rose. "Why not? What did he say?" She still didn't know what Tony had gone to ask him, but she found it hard to imagine Rhodey telling him no. But then she remembered the glimpse of his face she had gotten, back at the press conference. She'd hardly thought about it until now, but after Tony's announcement… Rhodey's face had completely closed off.

Tony hit the palm reader and the door to the staircase opened. He disappeared a moment later.

 _But they're friends_. Maggie went to follow him, but when she touched the palm reader it flashed red.

" _I am sorry, Ms Stark, but sir has requested that he be left alone_." J.A.R.V.I.S. truly sounded apologetic.

For a moment her blood boiled. The house blueprints flashed in her mind, giving her ideas for how to break into the workshop so she could wring Tony's neck for locking her out. But then she let out a breath. And another.

Her fists unclenched. "Let me know if he needs my help, J.A.R.V.I.S.," she sighed. "Keep an eye on him."

" _Of course_."

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose, still resisting the urge to break down the door. Or to call Rhodey and tear him a new one. She would bide her time, and wait. Like she had been ever since Tony got back. And while she waited, she would hunt.

She returned to her computer.

* * *

The next day, Maggie returned from a dawn ride along the coastline just as Tony emerged from downstairs. He jerked his head at her. "You coming? I've got something to show you."

She didn't hesitate. "Okay." She started after him, but before they reached the staircase he whirled on her. "This isn't for the military, Maggie. I don't… I don't know if people didn't hear me right at that press conference, but _I don't do that anymore._ You understand that? You're not just…" his eyes flickered. "Waiting for me to see sense?"

Maggie blinked at him. _I thought we already covered this_. Whatever Rhodey had said must have shaken him. "I've been waiting for you to see sense for years," she eventually said, with a soft smile. "I don't have to wait anymore."

That made him smile. "Good. Come with me."

He brought her downstairs to the workshop. She'd been expecting to see it in disarray, but it was surprisingly organized. Tony made a beeline for his computer setup and waved a hand over the keyboard, waking up the monitors. Maggie circled behind him as he typed in a code. When a set of designs flashed up on the main screen, her breath caught in her chest.

"When did you do this?" she gaped.

"You're not the only one who can keep secrets," Tony told her, and there was hardly any sting in it. He nodded at the screen. "Blueprints were already finished in my head, I just needed to get them on the computer. J.A.R.V.I.S., you up?"

" _For you sir, always_."

"I'd like to open a new project file, indexed as Mark II." Tony picked up a digi-pen and began manipulating the design on screen.

Maggie's eyes roved over the clean lines on the computer monitor, and the lines of code on the other. A pair of etched-out eyes peered back at her. "This is your suit of armor," she said softly. The one he'd told her about, the one that had saved his life.

" _Shall I store this on the Stark Industries central database?_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

Tony used the digi-pen to flick the design over to the holographic display beside him, and the design appeared in 3D light before Maggie's eyes. It pieced itself together, calculations forming the 3D model, and Maggie felt as if her brain had lit up like a Christmas tree.

She could already see how the design had been borne out of necessity: certain parts she recognised as parts scavenged from missiles, and the whole thing screamed _minimal welding supplies_. This was a junkyard scavenger's design. But beyond that… it was completely, utterly, Tony. Despite the rudimentary design it was _genius_ , with a complex power delivery system running from the arc reactor, carefully-planned armor plating, and a dazzling array of weaponry on the arms. It was clearly a massively heavy suit, but he'd built in power dispersal and mechanised movement, which would make mobility relatively simple.

She tried to picture the armor as Tony had made it, a seven foot tall metal behemoth, but her imagination failed her. All she had was this miniature glowing version.

Tony glanced at Maggie as he replied to J.A.R.V.I.S.:

"Don't know who to trust right now. Until further notice why don't we just keep everything on my private server." He stood up and circled the holo-display until he stood on the other side from Maggie, with the glowing armor between them.

" _Working on a secret project, are we sir?_ "

Tony reached out and opened up the glowing helmet with his fingers. "I don't want this winding up in the wrong hands," he muttered, then grabbed the internal computing and wiring from the design and tossed it all in the virtual trash can on the display. He spun the design, baring the miniature arc reactor to Maggie, and tossed some of the external bulking - a power dispersal unit.

"Maybe in mine it can actually do some good." Tony swiped a hand, sending the armor spinning on the display between them, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet Maggie's. "So, what do you think?"

Maggie reached out, cautious, and slowly turned the glowing armor with a twist of her fingers. In the space of seconds Tony had stripped back the armor to a slimmer, less bulky design than the one on his computer screen. The design before them now was a shell, but Maggie didn't see emptiness: she saw a _foundation_. She lifted both the glowing arms, eyeing the weaponry, then traced the fine glowing lines back to the arc reactor on the chest.

The thrumming feeling pounding in her chest and prickling along her arms reminded her of when she'd first etched out a design of metal wings in her notebook. She knew better than to ignore the feeling.

But… this wasn't just about machinery. Her eyes flicked back up to Tony. The light glowed on his face.

"What will you use it for, Tony?" she asked softly.

His face only grew more determined. "I already told you."

"No, actually, you haven't." He'd hinted at his plans, had even promised her that he intended to make the world better and would not destroy himself, but… "Tell me, Tony. Tell me I'm not helping you make just another weapon."

His eyes tightened, before he sighed. "They had our weapons, Maggie. This…" he hovered a hand over the glowing armor that spun slowly between them. "This isn't a weapon." He held her gaze, earnest. "This is… Yinsen told me not to waste my life, and I want this to be a way of… protecting people against the damage we've already done. I'm going to use it to put a stop to the people who use our weapons to create fear, and violence, and tear apart families. It's a…" his jaw worked, and he glanced back down at the armor.

Maggie let out a sigh. "It's a shield," she finished for him.

Tony's eyes gleamed. "Right." He let out a breath, as if relieved she understood.

And of _course_ she did. Hadn't she already built her own? "Plus," she added with a knowing look, "you want to make this fly, don't you?"

His look of relief turned into a grin, and Maggie laughed.

"You and I are too similar for our own good," she told him.

"What does that mean?" he cocked an eyebrow.

But Maggie just spun the armor again, smiling, then met his eyes. "Just promise me you'll remember something, Tony: a shield can still be a weapon."

He sobered a little, and nodded.

She broke back into a smile. "Let's get started."

* * *

It had taken Tony three months in a cave to put together a working suit of armor. With the help of J.A.R.V.I.S. and the state-of-the-art tools in Tony's workshop, work went much quicker, but Tony's designs were so much more complex. For a few weeks they didn't even bother manufacturing anything, too busy twisting light and ideas with their bare hands. Maggie had missed Tony's holo-displays while she was away: she'd forgotten what it felt like to sit, mind churning and fingers twisting, as complex designs took shape in thin air before her. She and Tony flicked ideas back and forth, trading parts of the armor: Maggie worked on the thruster parts while Tony worked on the helmet HUD, then after a few days they swapped, going over the other's work with a fine tooth comb, picking up new ideas and adding their own. Maggie had learned a lot from designing her own wings, though she didn't tell Tony that, and included elements of her design in the armor.

As it had been with their creation of J.A.R.V.I.S., their days were driven by Tony's whirlwind of ideas, and Maggie taking those ideas and helping refine them into something real and tangible. After the weeks of rest, this whirlwind of invention felt like a breath of fresh air. Maggie could see, in Tony's intent eyes and focused work, that this was what he had been planning ever since his plane touched down on home soil: _this_ was the purpose that she'd recognised in his eyes.

Slowly, their work with designs and light began to take shape in reality. They began manufacturing small parts: joints and computer boards, testing out their designs. Slowly, the workshop began to fill: coils of wire snaked across the floor, toolboxes and panels and machine parts stacked out of the way. Old takeout boxes and stale cups of coffee cluttered their workspaces. Dum-E and U, their robot brains intrigued by the new project, hovered around Maggie and Tony, helping where they could.

Tony had come back from Afghanistan with more than a set of mental blueprints, however. Maggie noticed it the first time she absent-mindedly handed him a precision tool when she saw he'd need one. Tony had reached out but then hesitated, his eyes on her outstretched, offering hand. She'd looked into his face and noticed sweat beading on his forehead.

"Something wrong with the tool?" she'd asked.

He shook his head once, then with visible effort forced himself to take the tool from her. She didn't miss the shiver that seemed to go down his neck. _Okay_.

She put it together when she offered him a mug of coffee the next day. He winced at her, then said: "Just put it down on the desk, thanks."

So Maggie set the mug by his elbow, and a few moments later Tony slid it into this hands and took a deep gulp.

She eyed him. "Is it me, or is it…?"

He shook his head sharply. "It's not you. I don't know, I've noticed… I don't like being handed things."

Maggie cocked her head. There was a whole lot there to unpack, and she could probably trace the root of it. He'd told her a little about the torture he suffered at the hands of the Ten Rings - not much, but enough. Maggie couldn't imagine how that tore at the mind, how it embedded fears deep in the soul. She wasn't sure if this sudden aversion to being handed things was an aversion to the possibility of touch, or a remnant of his relationship with Yinsen. Heaven knew she had her own strange hangups, like how she didn't like people touching her back, or sneaking up on her. Tony had that latter problem too - he seemed so much more physically tense, always aware and alert of what was happening around him. Good for survival, but bad for calm.

She nodded. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here." He avoided her eyes. "But with _that_ , at least, that's something I can easily change. You don't like it, I won't do it." And with that declaration, they got back to work.

Maggie never handed something directly to Tony again. They worked around and with each other, leaving tools and coffee and sandwiches just within arms reach of each other, but never actually passing them directly. Sometimes Tony snatched things out of Maggie's hands - _especially_ the digital holograms - and that, she thought, was his attempt at challenging the fear. So she just smiled at him whenever he did it.

For the most part, Maggie and Tony were left alone. Pepper popped in and out of the mansion, though they never invited her down to the workshop, and Obie called every now and then to update them on the situation with the board. Rhodey called too, but he was… distant. Professional.

Maggie kept up her hunt. She uncovered more background on the Ten Rings, and traced their movements up until Tony's escape. They'd gone shadowy, but she could tell they were still around: she caught snatches of activity in the areas of Afghanistan and surrounds that were supposed to have been liberated, and the intelligence organisations in the area were clearly uneasy. But there was nothing concrete, and the DoD hadn't released their findings from their investigation into Tony's kidnapping yet.

Maybe the Ten Rings really had been irreparably damaged by Tony's escape. Maybe however they'd gotten Stark weapons was an avenue no one would be able to exploit again. Maybe this armor she was helping Tony make would only ever be needed as a precaution.

Maggie liked to think she was a hopeful person. But she was also a realistic person, so she kept her wingpack close to hand, and made sure Tony's armor was missileproof.

* * *

September, 2009  
Kunar Province, Afghanistan

After months of searching through sun-baked desert, a man in a dusty, faded uniform pulled a metal mask from the side of a hill.

Sand poured through the eye slits like tears until the mask gleamed in the sunlight, freed from the desert.

Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar looked over at the man's shout, and for the first time in months looked into that blank metal face again.

 _Finally_.

* * *

Stark Mansion

Maggie was hunched over her Wyvern computer on the mansion couch, brow furrowed, when the doorbell rang. She looked up, blinking.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.? Who is it?" Not many people called at the house these days.

" _Mr Stane is at the door, Ms Stark._ "

Oh. "Let him in." Maggie closed up her computer and slid it under the couch. It would completely wipe itself if anyone other than her tried to access it, but she still preferred for no one to notice it in the first place.

She'd been reading over the DoD report on Tony's kidnapping, which had only just been loaded onto their internal servers - which meant Maggie finally had access to it as well. There hadn't been much left of the cave system Tony had been held in, but the DoD had managed to get a few serial numbers off the remnants of the Stark weapons there. The DoD had traced the serial numbers and found that the weapons were part of a routine shipment to the US Army in Afghanistan. And the Army records said that the weapons had been received. Maggie's mind whirled. Was the leak on the SI side of things, or within the Army? And had it been a one-time deal, or a routine?

She pushed it all out of her mind for now as Obie strode into the main room and spotted her on the couch. She stood, smiling. Obie had been far too busy in New York with the board to come over before now.

"Hey, Obie. Tony's not here." Tony had gone out to pick up another shipment of parts for the armor.

"Oh, that's too bad," Obie said, smoothing down the front of his suit as he walked in, and Maggie suspected he'd already known that Tony had gone out. She cocked her head and eyed him. Obie looked exhausted, with tired lines around his eyes.

His eyes alighted on her. "Maggie. How're you doing, kid?"

"Alright," she shrugged. "Better now that Tony's back."

Obie sighed. "He came back different."

Maggie's heart panged. "Yes." Tony had returned, darker and focused and with an undeniable _drive_.

Obie's eyes tightened and he closed the distance between them to set a hand on her shoulder. "I know that must be hard for you. I know you two have… you've had your issues, in the past, but I can't imagine how it feels to see him…" he cocked his head. "Like this." He glanced around the mansion. "I know you've been holed up here with him a while, is everything going alright?"

She frowned. "Tony's doing okay, Obie. He's been through a lot, but he's not… not broken."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "What about you? I notice you haven't run off for a foreign country yet."

She straightened her shoulders. "No. Tony needs me."

Again, that sympathetic smile. "What about you? What do _you_ need?"

She opened and closed her mouth. She hadn't really thought about it like that. She'd been focused on helping Tony build his armor, and on hunting down the organisation that had kidnapped him. She had put her hunt for the Winter Soldier on hold for now, but… it hadn't felt like giving up what she needed. But she supposed it might look like that from the outside: she had been holed up in the mansion with Tony since he got back.

Obie watched her face closely, his hand warm on her shoulder. "You haven't set foot in SI since the press conference."

"I'm not an employee there anymore."

"You could be."

She frowned. "What do you mean? Tony's CEO again."

"Yes," Obie said patiently, "but he's on suspended leave. You could step in as interim CEO again." His lips quirked. "You did a great job last time."

Her shoulders hunched. "It wasn't really me. It was you, and Pepper, and everyone else. I'm just… I'm just a Stark."

" _Just_ ," he echoed, the corner of his mouth ticking up again. "I'm glad your father never had to hear you say that."

She almost flinched. Her eyes dropped and she stepped out from Obie's grip, heading to the kitchen.

Obie sighed and paced after her, running a hand over his bald head. "Maggie. I know you love Tony. _I_ love Tony. But the world can't wait on him to… to heal." Maggie glanced back at him briefly as she poured herself a glass of water. "Come back to SI, do some good. You'll still be there for him. You'll be helping him, really."

Maggie knocked back her glass, and for a moment she really thought about it. She thought about if it was dad standing in front of her, instead of Obie. Asking her to take the reins. _This is our legacy._

She set down her glass and met Obie's gaze. "I'll step in," she said, and Obie started to smile, but then she added: "I'll step in _if_ the board lets me supervise the full shutdown of the weapons manufacturing division" - stormclouds rolled over his face - "and start development on other directions for the company-"

He stepped back, shaking his head. "You know the board won't go for that." He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and the disappointment on his face stung her. "Maggie…" the disappointment turned to something like pity as he eyed her face. "You need to step out from under Tony's shadow. I know… with the upbringing you had it must be hard, but you are your _own_ person. You don't have to bend to his will."

Maggie took a shaky breath. "Yes," she said. "I am my own person." She turned and walked away. On her way out the front door she called back: "You can let yourself out."

Obie watched her go, his dark eyes glittering. Reevaluating. Planning.

* * *

When Maggie got back to the mansion Obie was gone, and Tony had returned. She didn't mention Obie's visit. She still felt hot with shame and something else - something a little like anger.

She and Tony had started work on the 'boots' of the armor, by far one of the most complicated parts. First they built the general exo-structure, but then they had to fill it with a forest of wiring and computer nodes, ensuring that every part could move freely _and_ that Tony's feet wouldn't get fried when he put on the boot. They hunched over their working model, tiring their eyes from peering at tiny fluctuations in metal and singeing their fingers on soldering irons. Maggie's back ached from the exacting work.

But her mind still felt pulled beyond the workshop.

A few days after Obie's visit, Maggie left Tony in the workshop with Dum-E helping him wire the toe piece of one of the boots, and drove herself into the city.

Stark Industries loomed large and gleaming around her as she drove into the complex and parked in the executive car park. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, a reminder of the panic that used to sweep over her each morning coming into work.

But when she strode through the front doors into the lobby, she kept her shoulders straight and her head high. She'd even put on a suit again, which felt strange after the weeks of tracksuit pants and hoodies.

She wasn't quite sure what she was here for, but looking into that rogue shipment of Stark weapons would be much easier if she worked from within the SI secure servers.

Maggie nodded to a few people she recognized as she strode purposefully through the lobby, then swiped her card at the reader for the executive elevator. The reader flashed red and beeped at her.

Frowning, Maggie tried again. When the reader still wouldn't let her through, she turned and strode to the main reception desk, where the receptionist sat staring at her, red faced.

Maggie held up her ID card in a silent question.

"I'm sorry Ms Stark, you're not permitted up to the executive wing," the receptionist blurted.

She blinked. "Why?"

The receptionist looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. "Because… you're not on the approved list of executives."

Maggie had never been forbidden from any part of the company. She opened her mouth to say _But this is_ _Stark_ _Industries,_ but then realized how it would sound, and shut her mouth.

The receptionist grimaced. "The board is still in negotiations, so they're running the company in the interim. I'm sorry, but the instructions were very clear."

"It's not your fault," Maggie said. She set her hands on her hips and bit the inside of her cheek. She'd only wanted to look around really, but… instantly, the part of her that was the Wyvern wanted to break in. Wanted to hack in to her own company. She shook the instinct away. It wasn't like anyone would be able to trade weapons illegally while the _whole board_ was running the company. It'd get sorted out, one way or another, and Tony would be put in charge again. She hated being patient, but she would have to be.

She needed to keep her focus on the Ten Rings, the real threat across the ocean.

She nodded. "Can I go anywhere else?" she asked the receptionist, who checked her computer screen.

"Your card should get you into the engineering wing, cafeteria, legal, HR-"

"So everywhere except upstairs," Maggie said with a hint of humor. She sighed. "Thank you."

* * *

Maggie returned to the mansion, where Tony had made a breakthrough in solving the problems they'd had rerouting the heat produced by the thruster in the heel of the boot. She worked with him until the early hours of the morning, until neither of them could work through their tired eyes and aching fingers any longer. They exchanged a tired high five and then stumbled back to their rooms for sleep.

Maggie woke up at midmorning and strode out of her room to find Pepper in the rarely-used home office.

"Hi," Maggie said in surprise. Pepper was around the mansion more than anyone else, but she usually spent her time at Stark Industries keeping things running.

Pepper glanced over her shoulder as she sorted through binders. "Hi," she said, shooting her a polite smile. "I'm just picking up these audit forms and then I'll be gone, did you need the office?"

Maggie resisted the urge to laugh. "No, I'm good." She cocked her head. "Did you know I've been blacklisted from the SI executive wing?"

Pepper sighed and turned to face her, brushing back her ginger hair. "You haven't been blacklisted, Maggie. The board are trying to sort all this out, and Obie's trying to speed the process along, but until then neither you or Tony can go up there. Tony knows about it."

Maggie wrinkled her nose as she leaned against the door frame. "It feels wrong."

"I know. But what with impending financial doom and a seriously complicated leadership entanglement, things can't be quite as casual as when you were a child," Pepper said sympathetically. "Why, did you want to go back to work?"

She frowned. "Maybe. I don't know. Depends what the work is."

Pepper cocked her head. "I know you agree with Tony. But… don't you see why it scares people? Stark Industries employs thousands of people, all of whom are terrified they're going to be out of a job. The _government_ is terrified that they're going to be without weapons to defend the country." She saw the look on Maggie's face. "I _know_. I know, I understand your… ethical objections." She sighed. "I can't say that I don't share them. But there needs to be a _practical_ solution. This company has been founded on weapons manufacturing and selling since 1940. When Tony said he wanted to shut that down, it sounded to a lot of people like he was shutting down the company."

Pepper hoisted a stack of the binders in her arms and eyed Maggie. "What I think you both need to think about is… what can you offer the world instead of weapons?"

And Maggie knew that Pepper didn't mean it to be a slap in the face, but it felt like it. _Can Tony and I offer anything other than violence?_ She needed to believe it could be possible. The skeleton taking shape downstairs helped her to believe it could be possible.

She drew herself up tall. "Maybe if the board put a little trust in Tony, they would see what else he had to offer."

A flicker of doubt crossed Pepper's face. She glanced downward, and Maggie knew she was thinking of Tony, who was already probably back in the workshop. Maggie could almost read her thoughts: _traumatized, obsessed Tony, holed up in his workshop making god knows what_. Pepper glanced back at Maggie. "And it's not you?" she murmured. "You won't be the one to step in, to offer something different?"

Maggie thought about who she was, about what she could offer. If Tony asked her to, then she would. But they both knew that _he_ was the one meant to be at the head of the company, the public face. Maggie knew that she worked better in the shadows. She would work for SI, but she wouldn't run it.

She shook her head.

Pepper sighed. "Then we'd better hope that Tony starts acting like someone the board can trust."

* * *

As Tony and Maggie finalised the boots, Maggie began to get some ideas for her _own_ secret machinery. When Tony stepped away for much-needed sleep, she tinkered with her wingpack and gloves, updating the engines and connectivity. She didn't make her own arc reactor, but in working on Tony's armor Maggie had come up with some new ideas to streamline the efficiency of her wings.

She could tell that J.A.R.V.I.S. was slightly annoyed whenever she turned off the workshop cameras to work on her own project, as he was whenever she worked on her Wyvern computer, but he didn't say anything. He had no reason to.

* * *

October, 2009

"Alright," Tony said, surrounded by trails of wiring. They'd just successfully run a full powering on-and-off sequence with the boots. "Let's do a control test."

Maggie thought of _her_ first control test, when she'd jumped off a twenty-story building into the unknown. "Okay," she said, "but we need some ground rules."

They cleared up their mess in the workshop for the first time in a few weeks. Maggie laid a digital mat on the floor that would measure all the readings they needed to measure, and set Dum-E up with a fire extinguisher, while Tony equipped U with a camera. When she raised an eyebrow, he said:

"It's not science unless you record it, Maggie."

"You just want to watch yourself fly," she retorted, and he merely grinned.

As well as the fire extinguisher, Maggie's safety measures included a set of crash pads around the floor mat, and a yellow helmet that she'd once worn snowboarding. Tony made a face at the helmet, but eventually relented and put it on.

Once everything was in place, with the midmorning light streaming through the windows into the workshop, Maggie helped fit the heavy boots to Tony's feet. She taped the connecting wires up the side of his legs and to his chest, where the power leads snaked out of the arc reactor. Tony picked up the hand controls, and Maggie strapped _those_ wires to his biceps. He stood tense and grim-faced as she worked, and she remembered that Yinsen had been the one to strap him into his armor the first time. She worked quickly, for Tony's sake.

He looked strange, with clunky, complex metal boots on his feet and wiring taped all over his body, and a neon yellow crash helmet on his head. The arc reactor glowed from his chest. Maggie spared a second to eye it. He'd become so accustomed to the reactor in his chest that he hardly seemed to notice it most days. And she had too, as if he'd always had a blue light glowing behind his t-shirt.

"Come on," Tony said impatiently. "Are you staring, or are you helping?"

"I'm helping," she said, backing away to the computer consoles and the emergency kill switch. She ran an eye over the monitor as Tony turned on the floodlight.

"U, start recording," Tony called to the whirring robot, who beeped in obedience. "Okay, let's do this right." He began backing onto the floor mat.

Maggie watched calculations flood across the computer screen before her as the readings from the boots and the mat came through. The boots made millions of tiny calculations with each step, reading gravity and weight distribution and gyroscopic balance and atmosphere.

"Everything's in working order," she called. She consulted the handwritten page of math they'd done in preparation for the test. "You okay to get started?"

"Yep," Tony said, still backing into view of the camera. "Start mark, half a meter, and back and center." He found his mark then straightened, drawing in a deep breath. Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek. Tony glanced over his shoulder. "Dum-E, look alive. You're on standby for fire safety." He glanced back at Maggie. "You stay by those computers and get ready to shut it all down if anything goes wrong." She shot him a mock salute. He turned to U. "U, roll it."

Once Maggie and the robots had their orders, Tony lifted his hands until they were cocked ninety degrees in front of his body, the controls gripped in his hands. "Okay. Activate hand controls."

Maggie flicked a switch by the computer console. They hadn't fully automated the flight control systems yet. The hand controls powered up, a low whir that rose in pitch and volume like an engine revving to life. Tony let out another shaky breath and wiggled his feet, getting his balance.

Maggie pushed down the urge to say _be careful_.

"We're going to start off nice and easy," Tony said, more to himself than to Maggie or the camera. "We're going to see if 10% thrust capacity achieves lift."

Maggie checked the handwritten math again. They'd had to estimate the output of the arc reactor, but 10% was conservative. It'd be fine.

Still, she couldn't help wincing as Tony drew in one last breath and began his countdown.

"And three, two…" Maggie leaned in. "One."

It was like a bomb went off in the workshop. Blinding white light erupted from the boots with a ricocheting _roar_ like a jet engine and Tony shot off the ground, not in a gentle hover but a violent arc backwards until he collided with the wall several feet away. He hit with a _thud_ on the concrete and dropped, groaning, to the ground.

" _Tony_!" Maggie hit the _power off_ button, lurched away from the computers and darted across the workshop, cursing when she tripped on one of the main power leads. She stumbled behind the worktables Tony had fallen behind just as Dum-E turned, beeping, and loosed a spray of white powder and gas down on Tony.

Maggie cursed again and dove into the spray, feeling for Tony until she found his shoulder and dragged him out of Dum-E's way.

Tony lay on his back, eyes screwed up and his teeth bared in a grimace. White powder coated him from head to toe.

"Tony, are you okay?" Maggie glanced up. "Dum-E, cut it out!" The robot beeped and stopped spraying. When she looked down again, Tony had opened his eyes.

"Fine," he grit out. "Nothing broken." He unclenched his hands and the hand controls clattered to the floor. He coughed.

Maggie let out a breath and then wiped her eyes clear of the fire extinguisher powder, glancing over her shoulder at the safety setup around the floor mat. "You missed my crash pads."

"Yeah," Tony laughed, sitting up with a groan. "Our math was _shit_."

Maggie joined his laughter, and the two of them knelt on the workshop floor, covered in white powder and surrounded by machinery.

"You know what," Maggie said, "I _am_ glad you recorded that."

* * *

Their first, spectacular failure led to a flurry of inventing. While nasty bruises bloomed on Tony's back and head they dove back into their designs, re-adjusting for the power output of the arc reactor and piecing together how the rest of the armor would function as a unit.

"It wasn't just the power output that sent you into that wall," Maggie thought out loud as they twisted the design for the boots between them.

"The problem was the orientation and the angular velocity," Tony continued. They both reached for their mugs of cold coffee and sipped them, not taking their eyes off the designs. "Like setting off a bottle rocket."

"You need stabilisers," Maggie agreed. "Two points of thrust isn't enough to keep you steady in midair, there's no way you'll be able to maintain direction."

They'd miscalculated. Tony had been thinking of missiles, which only really needed one point of thrust since they were static objects. People were not as aerodynamic as rockets. And Maggie had been thinking of her wings, which calculated and made adjustments midair - but they were balanced completely differently to the repulsors at the bottom of Tony's feet.

"So…" Tony looked over their math with fresh eyes. "If we've got these aerodynamic calculations right - which would be a first - I'll need at least _four_ points of contact to sustain vertical flight."

Maggie nodded. "Good thing you've got two arms."

He grinned. "Back to the drawing board!"

* * *

When Maggie checked her Wyvern computer a day later, there was a tip-off waiting for her from one of her UK intelligence contacts. She'd been digging into anyone who'd ever been affiliated with or in contact with the Ten Rings, and her contact had come through. They hadn't sent much, just a name. But Maggie could work with a name.

A few hours later, Maggie set up a new burner phone and made a phone call. She'd escaped up to the roof of the mansion to avoid being overheard, and a chill wind blew off the ocean and into her face. She watched the sun sinking behind the horizon.

The phone rang three times before it picked up.

"Hello?" a woman's voice, softly accented.

"Is this Aisha Baqri?" Maggie knew that wasn't the woman's real name, but the one she went by these days.

"... Yes. Who is this?"

"Please don't hang up," she said. She hadn't disguised her voice, because she was sure the voice modulator would scare Aisha too much. "I think you can help me with some information. I promise I mean you no harm."

"What is this." The other woman sounded cold, scared. And well she might - Aisha Baqri, or Anahita Kurbanov as she used to be known, had lived a life of much fear. Maggie didn't know all the details, just that Anahita had become Aisha when the UK Secret Intelligence Service had provided her with a new identity, in exchange for her information about the organisation that had kidnapped her and trafficked her when she was just eighteen.

Maggie sighed, expecting Aisha to hang up on her at any moment. "I'm trying to… to shut down the Ten Rings."

A long, long silence. But Aisha didn't hang up.

"That's impossible," she eventually breathed.

"Nothing's impossible," Maggie said, emboldened. "I need your help. Just tell me everything you know about them: their operations, who's involved, where they operate out of-"

"I don't know anything. I… I really don't."

"Your name will _never_ cross my lips again. You are safe. Please. I need something to work with."

Another long pause. Then Aisha said, in a small voice: "How will you stop them, when no one else has done so?"

Maggie closed her eyes as the sun finally slid beneath the horizon. The breeze on her skin was cool. "Because I know how to hunt hidden things," she said. She opened her eyes and thought of the armor coming to life downstairs. "And because I'm not alone."

Aisha let out a staticky breath. "I will help you."

Maggie clenched a hand. "Tell me everything."

An hour later Maggie went downstairs, heavy with the weight of Aisha's story. Aisha hadn't known much about the intricacies of the Ten Rings, but her story gave Maggie a place to start: Aisha had grown up in a village near the Pamir river, on the border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan.

The village was raided in the dead of night by armed men who spoke half a dozen different languages, and all the women were taken back to a base in the mountains. Aisha couldn't tell Maggie _where_ the base was, but Maggie asked her how they had gotten there, how long they had driven for, and what she remembered about the base: everything from the kind of rock, the temperature, and what little of the view she could see. Maggie was certain of one thing: it wasn't the same base that Tony had been taken to.

Aisha and the women from her village had been kept in the mountain base for three days, before they were taken to a market to be sold. A market for _people_. Aisha had escaped after two years and found her way to a refugee camp in Pakistan. The UK Secret Intelligence Service had used her information to shut down the human trafficking market, but they'd never been able to track down the Ten Rings themselves.

It didn't leave much for Maggie to work with, but now at least she had _something_.

"Thank you, Aisha," Maggie had murmured to the woman on the other end of the phone. "This helps."

Aisha had taken another one of her long, heavy silences. "I know they're still doing it," she whispered.

"How do you know?"

"I don't… I never went back to my village, but I heard years later that it had died, after the women were taken. No one lives there now. And I don't have any proof, but… I know they're still doing it. They sold me for a great deal of money, and I was just one person. It's too profitable for them to stop, especially when no one has been able to stop them. I know there are others like me, even today. If you do find them…" Aisha's voice hardened. " _Make_ them stop."

Maggie nodded, even though the other woman couldn't see it. "I will."

Aisha had hung up.

Maggie went back to the workshop, where Tony greeted her with a grunt and pointed her toward the holo-display, where a new design for an armpiece awaited her. Maggie sighed and headed over to look it over.

She would start this new angle of her hunt in the morning. But for now she needed the familiar routine of invention. At least until she could learn to breathe with the weight of Aisha's story on her chest, and the responsibility of the promise she had made her.

* * *

October 22, 2009

"The intercom's buzzing," Maggie called to Tony.

He didn't respond.

Maggie frowned as she perched at the top of a fold-out step ladder, screws clamped between her lips as she wired up a machine that looked a lot like something out of a car factory assembly line. They'd actually bought the base of it from a car factory: it looked like a giant yellow robotic arm, larger than Dum-E or U, with clamps and levers designed to put machine parts together. This machine would - eventually - help to automate the assembly of the armor and put it on Tony's body quickly and safely. This machine wouldn't be smart like Dum-E and U, but it would get the job done.

The intercom buzzed again, a low beeping tone.

"Tony!" Maggie said again, trying to scrape her hair out of her eyes while both her hands were occupied bolting one of the machine joints together. She screwed it in, then looked over her shoulder.

Tony had his arm in the model armpiece they'd put together on the main workbench: a barebones model, not much more than a metal exoskeleton, wires, and the palm thruster. As she watched, he plugged the power leads into his arc reactor and clamped the joints shut around his arm. "I told you not to mess with that yet," she called, spitting screws out into her hand. "We haven't finalised the power output math and you _know_ what happened last time."

His eyes flicked toward her. "I'm just checking it works before we add the plating."

"Sure," she said, and turned back to the assembly bot. "J.A.R.V.I.S., are you linked up to this yet?"

" _One moment, Ms Stark_." She waited, sitting at the top of the six foot ladder, one hand on the yellow arm of the assembly machine. Finally it whirred, and the angle joint moved. " _The assembly machine is connected, Ms Stark. Running diagnostics._ "

"Great," she sighed. She heard the workshop door open and looked over her shoulder to see Pepper walking in, carrying two mugs of coffee balanced on what looked like a paper-wrapped box. Pepper's eyes roved over the chaos of metal and wires in the workshop, Maggie sitting on top of the ladder, then over to where Tony powered on the stabilizer attached to his arm.

"I've been buzzing you," Pepper called. "Did you hear the intercom?"

Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, everything's… what?" Tony adjusted his stance.

"Obadiah's upstairs." Pepper set the box and the coffees down on the nearby table. Dum-E perked up. "What would you like me to tell him?"

"Great, great, I'll be right up." Tony lifted his arm, machinery and all, stabilising the metal casing with his free hand.

Maggie wiped sweat off her brow and checked the assembly machine once more, before adjusting her feet to climb back to the ground.

"Okay," she heard Tony mutter, and looked over her shoulder to see him lifting his hand, the stabiliser glowing white at the centre of his palm, aimed at a small square of blast shield. She glanced back at the ladder.

"I thought you said you were done making weapons," Pepper said.

"It is, this is a flight stabilizer. It's completely harmless."

Maggie heard the whir of the stabilizer powering up before-

_Boom._

A bolt of energy scorched across the workshop, blasting past Maggie's ladder and impacting against the far wall. Maggie flinched at the blast of white light and then yelped as her ladder tilted sideways. The world blurred, and she hit the concrete. The ladder clattered to the ground a few feet in front of her face, and above her the assembly machine swung in circles, knocked loose from its mooring but held upright by the cables.

For a few seconds, the workshop rang out with the clattering of knocked-over machinery and the tinkling of shattered glass. Maggie lay flat on her back, gasping and disoriented. Her arm ached.

Then she heard Tony's voice from the other end of the workshop. "I didn't expect that."

"Oh my _god_ ," Pepper cried, sounding furious. More metal clattered - probably Tony climbing to his feet. A blast like that had to have knocked him backwards.

Maggie caught her breath, then shot upright. She whirled until she spotted Tony, sheepishly smiling at Pepper. "Fucking _hell_ , Tony!"

He glanced over at her, taking in her mussed hair and furious expression. He spread his hands. "What? So we need to update the math again, big deal."

"I'll update _you_!" Maggie shot back, and pointed at the drunkenly spinning assembly robot. "Look what you did! You almost hit me!"

Pepper let out a furious, seething breath, and turned to head upstairs.

Maggie watched her go, then turned back to Tony. "I'm going up to say hi to Obie. You can clean _this_ up."

Tony pushed his hair back from his face and eyed the deactivated repulsor still strapped to his palm. "That's fair."

* * *

Maggie took the stairs three at a time, her anger cooling. It wasn't the first time Tony had nearly blown her up, and it probably wouldn't be the last. She emerged into the main room just as Obie emerged from the kitchen with a tumbler of whiskey. Pepper sat on the couch, looking upset.

"Hey, kid," Obie said with a tired smile. He headed for the piano. "You doing okay? You look a little…" his eyes flicked over her. "Ruffled."

Maggie glanced down at herself. She thought she'd done an okay job of straightening her clothes and brushing her hair back, but she had recently fallen off a six foot ladder. "I'm fine." She looked up. "You were in New York today, right? SI stuff?" Obie had called to update Tony earlier this morning.

Obie eyed her. "I thought you'd washed your hands of the company."

That stung. Maggie shot him a thin smile then went to join Pepper on the couch. Obie began to play, the notes ringing out strangely melancholy. Maggie closed her eyes and rubbed the arm she'd landed on. She didn't play the piano much these days. Mom had taught her, years ago, and Tony had made sure to buy a piano for the house, but… it hurt.

Tony came up the stairs a few minutes later, his shirt slightly stained - with oil or coffee, Maggie couldn't tell. He glanced over to where Obie sat at the piano.

"How'd it go?"

Obie didn't reply.

Tony strolled over to the couches, and spotted the pizza boxes on the coffee table. "Wow. Went that bad, huh?"

"Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn't mean it went bad," Obie replied.

Tony sat down beside Pepper, who did her best to ignore him. Maggie slumped down further on the couch.

"Uh huh, sure it doesn't," Tony said, opening one of the boxes. "Oh boy."

Obie stopped playing. "It would have gone better if you were there."

Maggie's brow furrowed.

"Uh uh," Tony retorted. "You told me to lay low, that's what I've been doing. I lay low, and you take care of all-"

"Hey, come on," Obie said, standing and walking over with his hands raised. "In _public._ The _press_. This was a board of directors meeting."

Tony glanced up. "This - this was a board of directors meeting?"

Maggie glanced at Pepper, who did not look up from her tablet.

Obie sat down beside Tony and let out a sigh. "The board is claiming you have post traumatic stress."

Maggie sat up. "What?"

Obie continued: "They're filing an injunction."

"A what?" Tony exclaimed.

"They want to lock you out."

Tony and Obie started arguing about the stock drop, and Maggie sat on the edge of her seat, watching them. She hadn't expected this. She'd run the company for a month and she was still blind to the intricacies of it all. It had never felt more like a weakness than now. She _should_ know these things. She should have seen that the board might do this.

"Tony, the board has rights too," Obie sighed. "They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest."

"I'm being responsible!" Tony cut in. "That's a new direction for me - for the company."

Obie's eyebrows raised at the stumble.

"I mean, me on the company's behalf being responsible for the way that…" Tony glanced to Pepper, as if for help, and she just sighed. Tony glanced back. "Oh, this is great." He seized the pizza box and got to his feet.

"Oh, come on," Obie protested. "Tony, _Tony_!"

"I'll be in the shop," Tony said curtly. He jerked his head at Maggie. "You coming?"

She gaped. "I… shouldn't we try to fix this?"

Obie turned sharp eyes on her. "Maggie-" but then Tony started walking for the door again, and Obie stood and jogged after him. "Hey, Tony, listen" - he put one hand on Tony's shoulder. "I'm trying to turn this thing around but you've gotta give me something! Something to pitch them." Tony turned to face him and Obie nodded at the arc reactor, which gleamed from a hole Tony had cut in his stained shirt. "Let me have the engineers analyze that. You know, draw up some specs."

"No-"

"It'll give me a bone to throw the boys in New York-"

"No, absolutely not, this one stays with me," Tony said, raising his voice over Obie's. "That's it, Obie. Forget it."

Maggie swallowed, still perched on the edge of the couch. She knew why Tony was guarding the arc reactor, but… this was _his_ company. Was he not going to step in? Be the person the board could trust? An uneasy squirm of doubt appeared in her stomach.

She couldn't see Obie's face, but he seemed only mildly frustrated when he said: "Well this stays with me then," and took the pizza box from Tony. "Go on, here, you can have a piece."

As Tony and Obie exchanged a few parting words, Pepper's hand landed on Maggie's. Maggie realised she was pulled as taut as a bow, her hands rigid on the couch and her back tense, her face written with anxiety.

"It'll be okay," Pepper murmured. "We'll sort this out."

Maggie nodded slowly. She relaxed back into her seat and murmured: "He… he's got a plan, Pepper."

Pepper's blue eyes seemed sad. "For the company? Or for himself?"

Maggie thought about the suit of armor. She believed in it. Believed in Tony. She wondered if she was just as blind when it came to him as she had been with the company. She swallowed. But then she thought of all the darkness in the world - the people she had been chasing as the Wyvern, and the people who took Tony.

"It's not just about the company," she murmured.

Pepper's eyes pinched with sympathy. Maggie stood and went to follow Tony, who had disappeared downstairs. Obie didn't say anything when she passed him, but she could feel his eyes on her back.

As she strode downstairs, she overheard Obie say to Pepper: "Do you ever think they might be bad for each other?"

She didn't hear Pepper's reply.

* * *

When she walked back into the workshop, still rubbing her sore arm, Tony was already re-wiring the stabiliser on his workbench.

"We can't help the company until we stop the weapons, Mags," he said without looking up at her.

"I know," Maggie murmured. She eyed him, his focused work. "I know Obie told you to lie low, but… what if you started going in to work again?"

He dropped the precision tool and turned on her. "Maggie, I need to do _this_. This isn't just for fun, this is…" he searched for the words.

She sighed. "I know."

She knew. She _knew_ , damn her, she understood his need to turn himself into a… not a weapon, but a shield. She understood the need to give yourself the power to stop the bad things from happening.

They were each becoming reflections of what they wanted to stop: she'd become the Wyvern to hunt the ghosts of the world, and he was becoming… whatever this was, to stop the terrible influence of their company.

Part of her wished he would go back to the old Tony - the Tony who'd take the helm of the company and make these leadership concerns go away. And she would do the dirty work for him, she'd hunt down the weapons and the Ten Rings and put a stop to it all. But she could see that Tony needed to do it for himself. Hell, he might even be better at this than her.

So she sighed, and nodded, and strode across the workshop to help him finish wiring the armpiece.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, but it didn't really make sense to split it up so here ya go.

HYDRA Base, Iceland

Agent Paul Wilmslow stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down from an upper metal gantryway as the Soldier was cleaned up by the med techs below.

The Soldier had already been debriefed. It was mission protocol to debrief him before the wipe - a protocol from the 90s apparently, when not getting sufficient details at the end of a mission before wiping had led to some confusion about the outcome of one of the targets.

Wilmslow cocked his head. Hadn't been a problem since, as far as he knew. Occasionally the Soldier seemed discomfited, or confused, but that was solved easily enough with a quick command, and then the use of the machine. And the Soldier had done his job perfectly today.

One of their agents had decided to turn traitor. The Soldier got to the man before he could do any real damage, but he may have let slip the base location. So they were preparing to completely vacate the base, once they wiped the Soldier and got him loaded in the cryogenic transport chamber. A precaution, but one they would have to take for the safety of HYDRA.

The Soldier sat straight-backed and dead-eyed as the med techs ran a quick decontamination cycle. He had returned with his metal hand covered in blood, but that had been cleaned away. He was bare chested, with wires connected to his temples and chest to read his vitals and in preparation for the machine. Wilmslow peered into the Soldier's face, partially concealed by his mop of dark hair. There was nothing there - no hint of a thought at all behind those eyes, only grim resolve to _comply_.

"Prepare the machine," Wilmslow called down, and the med techs nodded. One of them held up a rubber mouth guard and the Soldier took it into this mouth without even looking at it.

_Honestly._ Wilmslow understood the need for protocol, but he didn't understand why his superiors were so anxious about the Soldier, sometimes. He crossed his arms as the Soldier leaned back in the chair while the device's arms cranked down, his face blank and his eyes almost glassy.

It wasn't like the Soldier was a _man_.

* * *

November 7, 2009  
Stark Mansion, Malibu

"Alright, the camera's rolling."

Maggie sat on the main workbench, her hair tied up and away from her face with an orange scrunchie, and her hand hovering over the big red button that would shut down all the power to the machinery strapped to Tony's body.

Tony stood in the center of the workshop on the floor mat, his arms and feet completely encased in machinery. The arc reactor glowed brightly on his chest.

He cleared his throat. "Alright, Day 11, test… what number test are we on, Margarita?" he glanced over.

She checked their log. "37."

"Test 37, configuration 2.0. For lack of a better option, Dum-E is still on fire safety." Tony glared over at the robot, and Maggie smiled behind her hand. Tony pointed. "If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college." Dum-E let out a low whistle, but then his claw turned to Maggie. She shook her head reassuringly.

Tony widened his stance. "Alright, nice and easy…"

"It better be," Maggie said under her breath, her hand over the button.

Tony glanced over at her. "Easy with that, I feel like you're hovering by my hospital bed waiting to turn off the life support."

She wiggled her fingers over the button menacingly, and he rolled his eyes.

"Seriously," he said, then faced forward. "Just gonna start off with 1% thrust capacity."

Maggie eyed their math, completely digitized and run through several checking programs to be sure. She could see J.A.R.V.I.S. working through the repulsor computer program, setting the power limits.

Then Tony counted down, quicker than Maggie was ready for, and there was the familiar powering-up whine, followed by-

She flinched, expecting another violent explosion of sound and movement. There was a roar, and the white light of Tony's four repulsors pierced her retinas, but… Tony didn't explode backwards into the wall. His feet lifted off the ground and he wobbled, his arms flying out to steady himself, but then he hovered there. In midair.

Maggie's jaw dropped.

Tony teetered in midair, repulsors flaring, keeping him aloft and steady. He hovered just a few feet off the ground. _Flying_.

After a few seconds J.A.R.V.I.S. scaled down the power again, and Tony came back to earth with a skid of orange sparks. He wobbled again, but kept upright. "Okay," he breathed. His wide eyes met Maggie's.

Dum-E whirred, and Tony turned around. "Please don't follow me around with it either, because I feel like I'm going to catch on fire spontaneously."

Maggie wiped sweat off her brow and checked J.A.R.V.I.S.'s readings on the computer screen. "Okay, this is working."

Tony's eyes flicked back over her. "And again, let's bring it up to 2.5."

J.A.R.V.I.S. made the calculations, and Maggie ran her eye over them.

"Three, two, one-"

Maggie was ready for it the second time around. Tony's repulsors fired up and he lifted off the ground, steadier, a stream of exhaust and sparks raining down. He rose higher than last time and bent his knees to compensate. His arms drifted down and he slid over to the left in midair, toward the camera. He adjusted, arms flailing, and the boots made miniature adjustments as J.A.R.V.I.S. calculated Tony's balance.

Tony turned, his hair dripping with sweat, and suddenly went hovering backwards off the digital mat and over to the mouth of the driveway.

"Tony!" Maggie called.

"Okay, this is where I don't want to be," he gritted out, his knees bent and his arms flung wide. He veered through midair, unable to halt his momentum, until-

Maggie reached up to grip her hair. "Not the cars!"

But Tony had lost control. His repulsors roaring with jet exhaust as he hovered over the top of the first silver Audi, and Maggie glanced down at her power off button. "Not the car, not the car," he winced. "Yikes."

But Maggie abruptly forgot about the cars when Tony continued careening across the workshop - right toward her. When he roared over the first worktable, sending loose papers flurrying up into the air, her eyes widened. But he and his flaring repulsors just got ever closer.

She scrambled off her table and ducked away, crying out. "Don't come near me with that thing!" She felt the heat of the repulsors on her arm and danced away, hiding behind a table.

"Get out of the way, Magnet!" Tony called as he roared overhead.

She peered over the edge of the table she'd hidden behind, her last line of defense, just as Tony flung up both hands in front of him, halting his momentum.

They both let out a breath.

Then Tony went hovering back in the other direction, kicking up loose papers again. But he'd started moving his hands to direct himself, moving in a slightly straighter line. He laughed nervously as he hovered over U with the camera.

"Could be worse! Could be worse!" he called over the roar of the repulsors. "We're fine!"

Wobbling and grimacing, Tony directed himself back over the floor mat and somehow pulled it all together: he drew his arms steady and firm by his sides and straightened, and his wild careening came to a halt. For a few moments he turned slowly on the spot. Maggie looked up from behind her arms.

J.A.R.V.I.S. powered down the repulsors again and Tony slowly came down to earth, landing with a stagger.

Without the roar of the repulsors, everything else in the workshop seemed very loud: Tony's heaving breaths, Dum-E's low whine, and Maggie's heartbeat thundering in her ears.

Tony told off Dum-E again, for good measure, then looked back over and spotted Maggie as she rose from behind a worktable.

"Yeah," he said, eyes glinting. "I can fly."

Maggie grinned.

* * *

A week later, everything was in place for their first major test. Not for a single part of the suit, or a repulsor check, but a test of the first fully-made metal armor. It came together quite quickly once they were sure of their designs. Dum-E, U, and the automated assembly line that Maggie had built helped to manufacture the plating to cover the complex exoskeleton of wiring they had built, turning it into… something more. Maggie's fingers slid over sleek metal plates and intricate joints as they pieced it all together.

But she had yet to see the finished model. That's what the test was for: a full assembly to make sure every piece of the whole worked together, not hooked up to any external power or computers, but as a single unit. It had been a mess of external wiring and remote control through computers for so long that the idea of putting it all together was daunting. Maggie knew she'd miss her big red button. The final test would be uploading J.A.R.V.I.S. to the suit.

Pepper seemed to sense a different energy in Tony and Maggie when she visited that morning to drop them off breakfast burritos. She eyed them suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"Probably just another day in the workshop," Maggie said evenly. Like today wouldn't be the culmination of all their efforts.

Pepper's eyes narrowed. "Is this about that blaster thing you were making?"

"It's not a blaster," Tony said through a mouth full of food.

Pepper turned on Maggie. "You're not working on something crazy, are you? Nothing's going to blow up?"

"Nothing will blow up," Maggie reassured her. "I've checked like, eight times to make sure that won't happen."

Pepper did not look reassured.

* * *

They did final checks and last minute wiring the rest of the day until finally, at sundown, all the pieces were in place. The assembly robots bristled with glinting silver metal, and a metal face plate lay face down on the worktable.

Maggie eyed Tony's determined face as she helped him slide on the armpieces. They still had to do the base parts by hand, which made Tony tense and jittery. "You ready for this?"

She was 99% sure that nothing would go wrong, but if something did… it would probably result in severe bodily harm for Tony. She'd never heard of assembly robots putting machinery on a _person_ before.

Tony shot her a look. "I have done this before, you know." He flexed his fingers in the armpieces.

_Right_. Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek as she closed the last fastener with a _click._ "I know. I haven't, though." She stepped back, running her eyes over Tony. "You're ready."

Tony eyed Maggie, oil stained and tousle-haired, her face illuminated by the arc reactor. The teasing glint in his eyes faded. "Hey. Thank you."

She cocked her head. "What for?"

He gestured, making machinery whir. "For all of it. For staying. For helping. For… getting it. Why I'm doing this."

She met his eyes, touched. Tony wasn't one for solemn moments. "Thanks for coming back."

He nodded, then took a breath. "Alright, let's do this."

Maggie nodded once. "You stand there" - she pointed to the marked-out spot between the assembly robots - "and be still." He obeyed, keeping his feet shoulder distance apart and holding his arms out from his sides. Sweat glistened on his brow.

Maggie paced behind the computer array, double-checked Tony's positioning, and then eyed the lines of code before her. She let out a breath. "Okay. J.A.R.V.I.S., run it."

Half a second later the assembly robots whirred to life.

After so many days and weeks working on this, Maggie almost expected the process to take a while. But she and Tony had done their job well, and all in all the assembly only took about a minute. First two yellow arms pressed down and slotted chrome metal armor over the boots on Tony's feet - the plates slid cleanly over the inner frame, clicking and whirring into place. Tony didn't scream in pain, which Maggie took as a good sign.

Her eyes flicked up, to where the upper part of the assembly bot pressed the chest piece, back, and arms against Tony's body, smaller telescopic arms sliding out to screw in the elbow and shoulder pieces with a buzzing whir. Maggie stared from behind the computers as plating slid into place, almost fluid.

A second later the assembly bots retreated, leaving Tony almost wholly shrouded by metal, save for his face. Tony's eyes flicked over to Maggie, glinting, and then he reached for the metal mask on the table.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., you there?" Tony asked as he pressed the mask to his face. Like the rest of the armor it fit cleanly, sliding in with a _hiss_.

Maggie didn't hear what J.A.R.V.I.S. said in reply because the mask closed over Tony's face, but he must have said something, because like something coming to life, the mask's eyes lit up.

For a few moments, Tony stood completely still. Maggie could guess what was going on inside that helmet: the HUD coming to life, flooding in with data on the suit and the surroundings, and J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice.

Maggie didn't have any of that. She had… for a moment, it almost felt as if Tony had disappeared and left her in the workshop with this gleaming metal man.

He stood tall, plated in silver, with glowing blue eyes, a grim metal mouth, and the bright glow of the arc reactor. And it was… once of the most brilliant things Maggie had ever seen. The suit was almost otherworldly, an intricate artwork of machinery and metal.

_Not a weapon. A shield._

"Alright, what do you say?"

Maggie flinched at the sound of Tony's voice, amplified and distorted by the helmet.

" _I have indeed been uploaded, sir,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. said evenly, out loud for Maggie's benefit. " _We're online and ready._ "

Maggie's stunned face broke into a grin.

"Can we start the virtual walk around?" Tony asked. He sounded much steadier than Maggie felt.

" _Importing preferences and calibrating virtual environment_."

Tony turned slightly, the metal clanking, until he faced Maggie. She looked into those glowing blue eyes and didn't know what her own face showed him. Tony raised his arms. "Well?"

She opened and closed her mouth a few times. "How does it feel?"

She could hear his smile when he answered: " _Awesome_."

She couldn't help her returning grin. "You're not done with the interface tests," she chided, mock-serious. "J.A.R.V.I.S., run the control surface check."

" _As you wish_."

Like a living beast stretching its muscles, Tony's armor _rippled._ First the plating on the boots shifted, sliding up and down, then flaring out, revealing the glowing blue mechanisms within. The knee plates were next, followed by the torso plates, smooth like a dozen origami folds, slotting together. The spinal column slid down and up beneath the aerodynamic flaps. Tony's arms rotated and the repulsors at his palm flared to life, glowing at his sides like fistfuls of light. Weaponry emerged from his arms for a moment so he bristled like an armory, before it all slid back beneath the smooth silver plating.

Maggie bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn't see Tony's face but she could see him standing tall, shifting slightly with the movements of his armor. She wondered if he felt like she had, standing on that rooftop with her wings spread wide and black beside her. She wondered if he felt the power he'd made for himself. The potential.

But then:

" _Test complete. Preparing to power down and begin diagnostics."_

Maggie closed her eyes. She knew what _she_ would do, and she definitely knew what Tony was about to do.

"Uh, yeah," he told J.A.R.V.I.S., "Tell you what, do a weather and ATC check, start listening in on ground control."

" _Sir, there are still terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight is-_ "

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony chided. "Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk." His head turned, until those glowing eyes found Maggie again. "I'm not sorry about this."

She just shook her head at him. "Be careful."

"Ready?" he said, facing front again. "In three, two" - he took his stance, arms straight by his side - "One."

The repulsors flared to life with a steady roar, lifting him a foot off the ground. Maggie's breath caught in her chest and Tony leaned forward-

In the next second he had rocketed up the driveway, yelling, leaving the echo of rumbling engines in his wake.

Laughing, Maggie spun on her heel and dashed for the stairs, taking them three at a time until she burst out onto the roof of the mansion. The cool evening breeze whisked against her face as she turned, searching-

_There_. Tony was a glowing pinprick in the night sky, pinwheeling toward the city over the dark ocean. Maggie let out a whoop, grinning from ear to ear.

She wanted to spread her wings and soar up to fly with him, but… she didn't have her wings. And no one had seen them before, especially not Tony.

But his flight did look _fun._ She kept an eye on him until she could no longer distinguish him from the lights of the city, then took a seat on the roof, brushing her hair back. _We really did it._

Her phone - or _one_ of her phones, rather - pinged in her pocket. Still grinning, Maggie reached for it and pulled it out, squinting at the bright screen.

Her grin dropped from her face.

She'd had a search algorithm running for over a week now, using all the verifiable data from Aisha's intelligence to hunt for the Ten Rings holdout she'd been taken to. And the algorithm had finally isolated a viable location. Maggie eyed the coordinates, chewing the inside of her cheek, then closed the algorithm to go hunting down satellite imagery for the area. She found it soon enough, in the DoD database: a satellite had moved over the area a month ago.

On the tiny screen of her phone she isolated the coordinates and peered down, a virtual eye in the sky.

_There._ It didn't look like much - nearly impossible to distinguish if you weren't looking for it. But she spotted a narrow, winding dirt road in the mountains, leading to a hillside with shadowy pockmarks - caves? - and distorted, irregular shapes surrounding them. Maybe buildings. The imagery was too blurry to make out anything specific, but it was _not_ a regular mountainside. She re-checked her search algorithm, running over the data it had collected on the site. Right geographical distance, right surroundings, and the algorithm had also picked up on intelligence reports of activity in the area, finding patterns over nearly a decade of intelligence from different agencies.

Maggie nodded to herself, eyes wide. _The base Aisha was taken to. It's still there._

_The Ten Rings._

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice broke through her concentration. " _Ms Stark, I have lost contact with Mr Stark. There was a buildup of ice and I believe the suit lost power._ "

Maggie shot to her feet, staring upwards. Her heart seemed to plummet. "Where is he?" She scanned the dark horizon. _I don't have my wings. I don't have my wings, and Tony is falling_. "We installed a parachute, didn't we?" That was certainly in the plans, but that had been Tony's job and they hadn't planned for him to be flying today-

" _I have him_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, relief plain in his digital voice.

Maggie let out a shuddering breath and put her hand to her heart. A moment later she spotted Tony again, rocketing back to the mansion over the ocean. Maggie drank in the sight of the gleaming suit which grew larger and larger, trying to collect herself.

He soared up over the mansion, a glowing missile, before slowing and lowering down in front of Maggie, his eyes two tiny pinpricks of light. She walked over as he lowered to the rooftop, ready to yell at him.

"Kill power," she heard him tell J.A.R.V.I.S.

J.A.R.V.I.S. killed the power. Tony dropped, and plunged straight through the roof.

Maggie's jaw dropped and she ran over to peer down the hole he'd put in the roof. The sound of tinkling glass and car alarms blared up at her, and she squinted until she spotted Tony, _two floors down_ , lying in the wreck of his blue sportscar. A moment later Dum-E turned and coated him with the fire extinguisher again, concealing him from view.

"Are you okay?" Maggie shouted down the hole.

Tony's helmeted head dropped back onto the car. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You're an _idiot_!"

* * *

Maggie dragged Tony out of the armor and upstairs to the kitchen, where she made him an ice pack to put on his head, which he'd knocked against the back of the helmet. Tony wouldn't stop talking about his flight, but Maggie didn't mind. She let him talk while she gingerly poked at the bruise rising on his scalp, and checked his pupils for signs of concussion.

"Well, I suppose I'd better put a tarp over that hole in the roof in case it rains," Tony sighed. He stood up gingerly and looked down at her. "You coming?"

"I… I can't." She held his gaze. "I've got something to take care of. Somewhere to be." Aisha and her base in the mountains. Maggie itched at the mystery of it all, still seething at the people who'd taken her brother and confused about how they'd gotten Stark weapons. She could not ignore this key in her hunt.

Tony's face shuttered and he looked away. "Right. Of course."

She glanced up. "Tony, I'm not…" she sighed. "Don't do that."

"Do what? I'm not doing anything." He moved away, heading over to the hole in the floor with the pieces of shattered piano around it.

" _Tony_. I'm not leaving for good. I'm coming back."

He looked back. "You are?"

" _Yes._ "

"But you won't tell me where you're going."

"I…" she opened and closed her mouth.

Tony waved a hand. "Forget I asked. You don't owe me any explanations, Maggie."

She shot to her feet and stormed over. Tony slid aside, walking into the kitchen as if he had pressing business there, but Maggie slid around him and got in his way until he looked at her. "Tony. You're my brother and I am going to come back. Probably in a day or two. I just… I can't tell you where I'm going. I'm sorry, but I can't." The armor wasn't ready, and neither was he. She could feel the Wyvern itching beneath her skin, ready to unfurl her wings.

Tony nodded slowly, then let out a breath. "Yeah, alright. Be careful though - if I'm a target for kidnapping then so are you. Maybe take Happy with you?"

She smiled, then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "I can take care of myself. But I'll promise to be careful if you promise to be safe about testing out the armor next time." She held out her hand.

After a few seconds, he shook her hand.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., you'll hold him to that promise, won't you?"

" _I shall endeavour to, Ms Stark_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S said in his ever-suffering tone.

Maggie met Tony's eyes. "See you soon."

* * *

Maggie chartered her own private jet. She'd already laid a trail of paperwork which would show anyone looking into her activities that she was headed to a private island in the Bahamas. But she set her flight computer for Pakistan - from there, she'd travel to the coordinates under her own steam.

As the jet's wheels lifted off the runway and she steered the jet up into the smoggy night sky, Maggie let out a long, slow breath. She had her Wyvern gear stashed in the bulkhead, and her computer processing further search algorithms while she flew.

After months of rest, the Wyvern was soaring back into the world. And Maggie didn't know quite yet what she planned to do.

* * *

Stark Mansion, California

Once he'd finished tidying up the hole in the roof, Tony made another icepack for his head and trudged back down to the workshop. There was a steady ache behind his eyes, and despite her reassurances he was worried that Maggie might never come back. Just when he'd thought they were getting somewhere, she'd taken off into the unknown again. He wished she would just _trust_ him.

He kicked aside a rolling creeper board, then spotted a white mug sitting on a paper-wrapped box on his workbench. Picking up the mug, he eyed the coffee inside. It had a suspiciously shiny surface and the side of the mug was stone cold. Could've been there for days.

He paused, then glanced back at the box. A yellow post-it note on top read: _From Pepper._

Frowning, Tony unwrapped the brown paper to reveal - a glass box. And inside, his old Arc Reactor. The one he'd told Pepper to destroy. She'd attached a metal rim that read: _Proof that Tony Stark has a heart._

The heart in question thudded in his chest. Carefully, Tony tilted the box back so the glowing reactor seemed to gleam up at him.

Despite himself, a smile lifted on his face.

* * *

Kunar Province, Afghanistan

In a tent illuminated by fluorescent light Raza smoked a cigarette, watching his men put together pieces of dusty, charred metal armor.

* * *

Fayzabad, Afghanistan

Maggie didn't blend in very well in the small city in the mountainous northeast of Afghanistan, the closest city to her suspected Ten Rings base. But she was at least able to disguise herself so the locals believed her to be some nosy and stupid Westerner, instead of Margaret Stark.

She was perfectly happy to take her time with her questioning, until she spoke with a drunk former police officer in a bar. She spoke just enough Farsi to understand his dialect:

"There have been raids all the last few days, all along the northeast," he told her with a flap of his hand, when she asked about violence in the area. "Whoever it is, they must be gearing up for something big. Getting all the money and weapons they can."

Maggie frowned. Sometimes men like this talked big to show off. "How do you know?" she asked in her halting Farsi.

He peered blearily at her. "My cousin in Eshkashem called me just this morning to tell me they've been getting refugees from some raided village on the border. Took all the women, burned all the buildings." He shrugged one shoulder. "The usual."

Maggie's heartrate kicked up. "Who was it?"

He shrugged again. "Take your pick. Taliban, Al Qaeda. Though around these parts we mostly have the foreign group, the ones with the red flag."

Under the table, Maggie's hand clenched into a fist. She glanced out the bar window, where the setting sun bathed the city red. If the village raid had been early in the morning or last night, it was possible the culprits were still on the road. The roads around here were bad, winding through the mountains and ravines. It would take hours to get anywhere.

She turned her gaze back on the cynical ex-cop. "Tell me everything you know. Where was the village? When was it raided?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You sure ask a lot of questions."

"I do," she said firmly. "Give me the answers."

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Alone in his workshop, Tony closed his eyes at the cool feeling of the ice on his shoulder, soothing the ache from his recent ill-fated flight. The computer bay whirred around him, running calculations on the readings from the flight. The armor had done well. He and J.A.R.V.I.S. worked together on the issues he'd encountered, figuring that gold titanium might fix the icing problem.

But then the TV on the far wall switched over to a news report about _Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund._

Tony frowned. "J.A.R.V.I.S., we get an invite for that?"

" _I have no record of an invitation, sir_."

Tony picked up the face plate from the Mark II suit and flipped it over, considering it. He'd drawn some ideas in chalk on the surface. The blonde reporter on TV continued:

"The man himself has barely been seen in public since his bizarre and highly controversial press conference."

Tony pressed the deactivated mask to his face and peered through the eye holes as a still of himself at the press conference appeared on screen. Was this how people saw him? Injured, traumatised?

"Some claim he's suffering from posttraumatic stress and has been bedridden for _weeks_ , being tended to by his sister. Whatever the case may be, no one expects an appearance from him tonight."

_Huh_.

" _The render is complete_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, as if he could sense Tony's thoughts and wanted to distract him. The Mark III armor appeared on the closest screen, glimmering gold.

"A little ostentatious, don't you think?" Tony said, turning away from the TV.

" _What was I thinking? You're usually so discreet_."

Tony eyed his cars, landing on the one with the flame decals along the side. Now _this_ was a suggestion that Maggie would tease him for. "Tell you what, throw a little hot-rod red in there."

" _Yes, that should help you keep a low profile._ "

Turns out he didn't need Maggie here to get teased.

When J.A.R.V.I.S. was finished, Tony grinned.

" _The render is complete_."

"Yeah, I like it. Fabricate it. Paint it."

" _Commencing automated assembly_." This version of the armor wouldn't need him and Maggie painstakingly piecing each element together. They'd taught the assembly robots how to do it all. " _Estimated completion time is five hours_."

Tony checked his watch. _Perfect._ "Mhm. Don't wait up for me, honey."

* * *

Fayzabad, Afghanistan

After calculating travel times, Maggie isolated the cellphone and radio activity across a certain geographical area, until she zeroed in on a small stream of chatter that had to be a convoy of some kind. They were heading northeast, into the Tajik mountains. In the direction of her original coordinates.

Planning on the fly, Maggie grabbed some supplies from the Fayzabad market and then got ready behind an old warehouse. She pulled on her metal wingpack, gloves, and a pair of tinted welding goggles she'd stolen from Tony's workshop. She checked her phone, calculating, then activated her wingpack.

The wings spread dark and wide by her sides without a sound, seeming to absorb what light remained in the dusk air. Maggie flexed her hands, and the wings shivered in response.

For a brief moment she hesitated. _What am I_ doing _?_ She'd never done anything like this before. She never stepped into the unknown.

But then her jaw set and her head tipped back until she was looking up at the darkening sky. _I promised Aisha._

More than that, she had already promised herself: she would find out more about the organisation which had stolen her brother and her company's weapons. And she would stop them.

She fired up her engines, a low whine behind the shopping centre, and kicked off the ground into the sky.

* * *

Walt Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles

Cameras lit up the red carpet leading toward the hall as Tony appeared, wearing a tuxedo and a smile.

He found Obie halfway up the red carpet, being interviewed by a journalist.

"What's the world coming to when a guy's got to crash his own party?" Tony called, and Obie glanced over.

"Look at you," Obie laughed, though his brow had knotted. He looked Tony up and down, as if surprised to see him wearing anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. "Hey, what a surprise. Where's Maggie?"

"Better places to be, I guess," Tony said. "I'll see you inside." He moved to step past him.

But Obie turned to face him again. "Hey," he murmured. "Listen, take it slow, alright?" He brought his head close to Tony's and his voice dropped. "I think I got the board right where we want them."

"You got it," Tony promised. "Just cabin fever, I'll just be a minute." He peeled away again, eyes on the glittering Concert Hall. He didn't notice Obie looking after him with a frown.

* * *

South Tajikistan Mountain Range

It took Maggie an hour to find the convoy. She'd been able to fly in a straight line across the border, found the narrow back road she'd traced the radio activity to, and then followed it up until she found a convoy: three trucks and two armored cars chugging slowly up the narrow mountain road. The engines rumbled in the night air and two of the trucks were playing rock music - she could just hear it as she coasted above the convoy.

Silent in the air above the mountain road, Maggie wished she had heat sensors, so she could tell how many men she was dealing with. She wished she had a HUD like in Tony's armor. All she had was her eyes and her phone.

After following the convoy for a mile, Maggie eventually figured out which truck the captives were held in: the one at the front had a canvas cover, and after dipping down to peer through the back Maggie got a glimpse of a huddle of people - women, most likely. The drivers of the trucks and cars were all men, wearing khaki uniforms and bristling with weapons.

After another mile, Maggie had formulated her plan. As the convoy wound up to a more open section of road, she flew up behind the truck at the rear and slashed its back tire with a knife. The tire ruptured with a _bang_ and the whole truck shuddered. Maggie banked out of sight, rising up against the rocky darkness of the mountainside.

As predicted, after some radio chatter the whole convoy came to a stop when the road widened out, the truck limping in at the end. They'd stopped on a rocky, scrubby outcrop on the mountainside where the wind whistled eerily through the air.

They kept their headlights on, and five men trudged back to the truck with the burst tire. The rest hopped out of their vehicles to stretch their legs and smoke.

Maggie's heart thundered as she dropped soundlessly down from the mountainside and crouched behind a jutting boulder. She waited a few seconds, listening for any shouts of alarm. But she heard nothing except the faint conversation from the men changing the tire at the end of the convoy, and the whistling wind.

Swallowing, she retracted her wings and pulled off her gloves and goggles, stuffing them in her jacket pocket. From her other pocket she pulled out a length of faded, embroidered fabric. She pulled the fabric over her head and body in the dark, tugging it down to cover her wingpack and arranging it around her face. This was a _chador_ , the traditional head covering for Tajik women who lived on the northeast border of Afghanistan and Tajikistan. It didn't cover her face, but it would do for now.

With her disguise pulled on, hiding her flight clothes and wingpack, Maggie peeked out from behind her boulder. She was ten feet from the first truck in the convoy, the one with the captives. All of the men were on the other side of the trucks, where the headlights provided the most light, and Maggie hid in the darkness on the mountain side of the convoy. She craned her neck, but could not see anyone near the back of the truck. _Why would there be? It's not like the women can go anywhere._

Maggie held her breath. _Here goes nothing._

She darted out from behind her boulder and dashed for the open back of the truck, her footsteps sounding impossibly loud on the rocky ground. She set her hands on the edge of the flatbed truck and hurled herself into the gloom within, landing on her shoulder on the metal floor.

A collective gasp filled the inside of the truck at her abrupt arrival. Maggie struggled to her knees and tried to adjust to the darkness. She thought she counted sixteen women, all sitting together on the floor of the truck - there were no seats. They wore fabric headcoverings like her, their faces grimy and tear-stained. Several of them were bleeding from cuts to the face. They scrambled back from Maggie, staring, and she heard a sharply drawn breath as if someone was about to scream-

" _Shhh_ ," she breathed, pressing her finger to her lips as she looked back at the women. Thankfully no one screamed, but they all still stared at her.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. No shouts of alarm, no weapons being armed. Her legs felt like jelly.

"Who are you?" Maggie knew enough Farsi to understand _that_ , and looked up to meet the eyes of the woman who had asked the question. The woman's dark eyes were wide and fearful, and Maggie could make out a bruise forming on her cheekbone. She couldn't be older than forty, with tiny crows feet at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm here to help," Maggie whispered. The woman's eyes widened.

Before Maggie could think of anything else to say there were a few shouts from outside the truck, making her freeze. She reached down to her hip, where under the _chador_ she'd stashed two guns and a knife. But then the truck engine came to life with a low roar, and the metal flatbed beneath her vibrated with it.

Moments later the convoy moved off again, with an extra passenger.

Maggie folded her legs beneath her and tried to steady her breathing, sitting with the other terrified women in the back of the truck. They stared at her like she was insane. And maybe she was.

* * *

Walt Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles

Tony's head spun. Not from drink - no, his head spun from dancing with Pepper, the feeling of something slipping out from under him as they'd turned in a slow circle, hands clasped and her smile as she looked back at him.

_And we're here, and I'm wearing this ridiculous dress, and then we were dancing like that, and then…_

That impossible, glittering moment when they'd both been silent, angling toward each other. Tony had closed his eyes.

"I would like a drink, please," she'd said, and Tony had fled back here, to the bar, where he ordered two vodka martinis, one of them _very dry with extra olives._

But then _she_ showed up - the woman from the night before Afghanistan, the reporter. C… it definitely started with a C.

"Carrie?" he guessed.

"Christine."

"That's right."

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight," she said with a smile. It was the sort of smile that made his muscles lock up. He realised he was physically leaning away. But then she quizzed him for his _reaction_ , her questions growing increasingly more confusing, until she shoved a sheaf of photographs into his hand.

He glanced down. The one one top was a photograph of… a town, if he had to guess, half turned to rubble, with men standing on tanks wielding weapons. A slaughtered cow lay front and centre, bleeding into the sand.

"It's a town called Gulmira," Christine said. "Heard of it?"

_It's actually a nice place_ , came the echo of Yinsen's voice. Tony flipped through the photos. Men carrying crates of weapons, gesturing with guns at the camera. His gut twisted, then twisted harder when he saw the logo on the crate of weapons. _Stark Industries_. He kept flipping until he landed on a photograph of a fully-assembled Jericho missile.

"When were these taken?" he said in a low voice he didn't recognize.

"Yesterday."

"I didn't approve any shipment," he said, meeting her gaze.

"Well your company did."

"Well I'm not my company," he shot back, fighting to keep his voice even.

Tony strode back through the crowd, past the glasses of champagne and the flashing camera bulbs, until he found Obie: still outside, shaking hands and smiling.

Tony grabbed his sleeve and pulled him aside. Obie waved off a nearby cameraman and turned on Tony with a look of consternation.

"Tony, what is it?"

"Have you seen these pictures?" he murmured, pressing the photographs into Obie's hand. Obie barely glanced down at them. "Huh? What's going on in Gulmira?"

"Tony," Obie sighed, pulling him further out of the public gaze. "You can't afford to be this naive."

Frustration boiled in his veins. "You know what? I was naive before, when they said _here's the line, we don't cross it_. _This is how we do business_." He leaned in, eyes burning as Obie just looked evenly back at him. "If we're double-dealing under the table… are we?"

Tony couldn't read Obie's eyes - they were dark, gleaming, but his face was utterly composed. After a moment, Obie gripped Tony's arm and turned slightly. "Let's take a picture, come on." Obie nodded at the nearby cameraman and smiled. "Picture time!"

His hand landed on Tony's shoulder.

Tony stared back at the cameramen, unable to muster up a smile, though Obie didn't seem to have any trouble since he grinned wide and white. He bent in to murmur in Tony's ear: "Tony. Who do you think locked you out?" Tony went still. "I was the one who filed the injunction against you."

Tony's breath seemed so loud in his ears.

"It was the only way I could protect you," Obie murmured. Then he clapped Tony on the shoulder once, and walked off.

Tony stood still as a statue on the red-carpeted steps, staring at Obie as he walked off to the line of cars.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Back in the workshop, Tony sat adjusting the wiring on the newly-fabricated arm piece, watching the news coverage of the violent takeover in Gulmira.

"... Recent violence has been attributed to a group of foreign fighters referred to by locals as the Ten Rings."

Tony clenched his fist in the armpiece, then got to his feet.

"With no political will or international pressure, there's very little hope for these refugees."

As the reporter kept talking, describing families torn apart and villages ransacked, Tony raised his arm. The repulsor in his palm glowed, fuelled by the arc reactor in his chest. Almost unconsciously, he fired it up.

The repulsor whined and then erupted, firing a bolt of energy that rocketed across the workshop and knocked down a light fitting in a shower of sparks. Tony's arm bounced back from the recoil and his eyes widened.

When the ringing in his ears faded he heard the TV again: "A child's simple question: 'Where are my mother and father?' There's very little hope for these refugees. Refugees who can only wonder who, if anyone, will help."

Tony glanced sideways, at the plate glass wall where his own reflection looked back at him: a man with shadows under his eyes and a glowing circle in his chest. By his side, the repulsor powered up. He flung his hand up and fired at the window, not flinching when it shattered into a thousand pieces. He turned, aiming, and fired on the next plate of glass, then the next. With a pile of shattered glass on the floor and his heartbeat thundering in his ears, Tony paced steadily to his worktable.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., you said Mark III is ready?"

" _Yes sir, but I-_ "

"Start up the assembly."

* * *

South Tajikistan Mountain Range

They drove until the sun came up, and Maggie's legs went numb underneath her. When they finally came to a halt and the engine turned off, she let out a shaky breath and tried to regain feeling in her legs. She'd need it. The other women whispered amongst themselves, peering out the back of the truck and occasionally glancing at Maggie, then yelped when an armed and uniformed man appeared and shouted at them.

His voice was too harsh for Maggie to understand the rapid Farsi, but the intent was clear - he opened the back of the truck and jerked his machine gun at them, gesturing for them to climb out.

Shaking, the women obeyed. Maggie kept her head down as she climbed out in the middle of the pack, feeling gravel crunch beneath her boots. She stumbled slightly, then blinked in the dawn light and looked around.

The base was set into the mountainside, a collection of tin buildings and tents arranged on the flattest area, around a set of cave entrances: Maggie counted four entrances, reinforced by concrete. There was no way to tell how large the cave system inside was. A fleet of trucks, tanks, and armored cars lay to the right, and there was an outdoor mess area to the left where Maggie counted over twenty men sitting at metal tables eating breakfast. The place was a bustling hive of activity.

Her stomach sank. _What have you gotten yourself into, Maggie?_ This base was much larger than she had been expecting. And this was just one part of the Ten Rings' operations in the region, if her ex-cop confidant was to be believed.

The other women seemed stunned by the scale of the base, too. They'd gone quiet, staring around.

The soldiers from their convoy were busy with the other two trucks, unloading the things they'd stolen from the village, while the others stalked off into the buildings and tents of the base, stretching their legs and greeting their comrades. One of these comrades walked out of a tent a few yards away and Maggie caught a glimpse of the interior before he closed the flap behind him: inside lay stacks of weapons crates. Her gut churned.

Only two soldiers seemed focused on the huddle of terrified women. And it was clear they'd done this before; when the last woman, a girl no older than twenty, stumbled from the back of the truck, they gestured their guns and barked a sharp command, directing them up toward the closest cave entrance. When the women didn't move quick enough the soldier on the left, a grizzled man with a nose that looked like it had once been broken, shouted at them, making the women flinch and hurry off. Maggie moved with them.

The women were crying again, shaking and clutching each other's hands as they paced up the gravel path towards the cave. Pale morning light streamed down on them, illuminating their dirty and bloodstained clothes. Maggie didn't know what the women made of _her_ , but they huddled around her, so she was easily able to keep her face downturned.

Maggie peered around as they walked, making a mental map of the sprawl of buildings and tents, trying to guess at their function. She saw tents for sleeping, a few more weapons caches, store sheds, and even a medic tent. One of the sheds had a red flag mounted over it, flapping in the breeze: crossed sabres, circled by ten black rings.

_I found them._

The grey rock of the mountainside seemed to loom up before them, and then the temperature dropped as they passed into the cave. Fluorescent lights were fixed to the low ceiling, painting everything a sickly white.

Maggie and the women trudged up the cave corridor, led by one guard while the other held his gun at their backs. Maggie suspected that most of this cave system had been blown out of the rock, from the jagged appearance of the walls. They passed a few other soldiers as they walked, who merely cast sneering glances at them. To the men in this base, these women were just another product stolen from a defenseless village: items to be taken, and then sold on.

A feeling mounted in Maggie's chest, expanding, putting pressure on her heart. Her skin prickled.

They took a few turns through the cave system before they approached a corridor with a room at the end. A room blocked off by a door made of metal bars. Beyond the bars there wasn't much to the circular, windowless room - just a few tattered blankets and a chamber pot. Maggie could see how this worked: the women would be shut up in that cage until another convoy was readied to take them to a slave market. Just as Aisha had told her.

As they drew close to the cage, a thrill ran down Maggie's spine.

_You've seen enough. Now or never._

Under her _chador_ , Maggie pulled on her gloves. She'd updated the gloves since their first design: they covered her whole hand now, black as tar and pointed at the fingertips with metal claws, with reinforced knuckles.

They paused outside the barred door, and the first guard bent over with a set of keys to unlock it.

Maggie squeezed out from the back of the pack of women, planted her feet and slammed her fist into the side of the rear guard's head before he could lift his weapon. Happy had taught her that move.

The man crumpled to the rock floor with a _thud_ and Maggie sprang back toward the front of the group. The guard at the door whirled around at the sound and Maggie lunged, striking the hard edge of her hand against his gun hand, making him drop it with a cry. He moved to shove her, but Maggie twisted her torso and brought her elbow up into his face, where it landed with a _crack._ The man howled, making Maggie's heart pound, so she grabbed his head and slammed it into the rock behind him. He dropped. _Thank god._

Maggie turned, trying to catch her breath.

The women didn't scream, thankfully. They stood there, staring at her. But this was a different kind of staring. Maggie crouched down and grabbed the fallen keys, then handed it toward the nearest woman, who looked to be about thirty, with a split lip.

"Drag these men inside the cage, and stay safe here," she whispered to them. The scale of her plan suddenly settled on her shoulders like a heavy weight, and she drew in a shaky breath. These women's lives depended on her. "I will be back."

To her relief, after another second of staring, two of the women bent down to grab the first soldier by the shoulders, and began dragging him toward the barred room. The woman with the split lip took the keys from Maggie, and the others sprang into action without a word.

Maggie tugged off her _chador_ , then reached into her jacket pocket and pulled on her cowl: as dark as the gloves, it covered her face and her hair, leaving the end of her braid sticking out the back. She now stood in her dark, close-fitted flight clothes, face concealed, with her metal wingpack on her back. She cast one last glance over her shoulder at the sixteen wide-eyed women, then took off running.

* * *

Gulmira, Afghanistan

Three hundred miles away, Tony Stark landed in the centre of the chaotic town square with a _clang_.

He stood up, gleaming red and gold in the morning sun, and the Ten Rings soldiers looked into his glowing eyes.

* * *

Ten Rings Mountain Base, Tajikistan

Maggie made it down two corridors before she ran into another soldier. He shouted at the sight of her and fumbled for his gun, but it was slung across his back. He hadn't been expecting an attack from inside the base.

Maggie was faster. She slammed the heel of her hand into his chin, knocking him flat on his back, then rained down two sharp punches. The soldier's head lolled to the side, unconscious.

Maggie rolled the man over and freed his gun, checking the side of the weapon for the serial number. Sure enough, right by the serial number was the small _Stark Industries_ logo. Her jaw clenched and she tossed the gun aside.

_I am in_ way _over my head._ This whole operation was far bigger than she'd anticipated, and nothing like anything she'd ever tackled before. As the Wyvern she normally tracked down and surprised _one_ person, not an entire extremist base. She knew Tony was building the suit, but it wasn't ready yet and she wasn't really sure what he planned to do with it - Tony had hinted at it, but hadn't said it outright. And Maggie hadn't wanted to put her brother back in danger again. So she'd come out here, alone, with nothing but her wings and her wits.

Maggie eyed the fallen soldier at her feet, and the crossroads ahead of her. A red Ten Rings flag was hammered into the wall. She'd come out here on a hunt for information, this wasn't -

_No. I came here with my wings, and weapons. I got on that truck._ Maggie had known, subconsciously, that this time she wasn't just going to slip in and out like a shadow, without making a difference.

Maggie licked her lips. _Information first._ She brought out her phone and ran a quick scan for electronic activity, before heading in the direction with the most activity. On the way she passed another carved-out rock room filled to the brim with weapons: the walls were lined with machine guns, ammunition clips, pistols, and rocket launchers, and crates full of missiles and grenades packed the floor. Maggie forced herself to walk past, sweat gathering on the back of her neck. Her phone led her back outside, to another cave entrance. She paused inside the cave for a moment, peering out.

_There._ Closest to the cave entrance stood a shed with thick power cables stretching out the back, snaking towards the main generator. A satellite dish bristled on the roof. There were a few dusty windows in the sides of the shed, showing the hazy shapes of computer monitors. The location made sense: computers wouldn't function too well inside the cave, but the building was close enough to the cave that they could transport their electronics inside if they were attacked.

Maggie reached for the weapons at her hip and waited for two soldiers to walk past, engaged in a conversation. Holding her breath, she slipped out of the cave - ignoring the primal prickling on the back of her neck - and toward the shed. She tried the handle - unlocked - and then let herself inside.

"Who are you?"

_Of course it isn't empty._ Maggie raised her right arm and fired the electroshock device in the wrist, launching two crackling bolts in succession at the two men sitting in front of the computer monitors inside the shed.

The men seized up at the surge of electricity before sagging and crumpling to the ground. Maggie let out a long, slow breath, then glanced around.

The interior of the shed was uncomfortably warm, no doubt because of the number of computers they'd crammed inside. Maggie had to admit she was impressed; it was a clean setup, with two server towers stored at the back of the shed, computer monitors lining both sides, and a communications hub near the door. They had a radio setup and a radar monitor. Cords snakes across the walls and the narrow desks, clamped in bundles and colour coded. Sure they'd set up their communications centre in a shed, but the Ten Rings knew how to organize. Even extremist organisations needed good IT support, Maggie supposed.

She got to work, sliding a data stick from her jacket pocket and installing it at the central monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She was very aware of time slipping out of her hands. As she tore through their systems, stealing all the data she could and downloading it onto her data stick, she began working with their communication tech. Just as she finished crafting a broad-range signal, the computer let out a soft _ding_ , letting her know that all the data had been downloaded.

The door opened. "Asif? Do you want to get breakfast- hey!"

Maggie made eye contact with the startled soldier just as his look of confusion turned into a snarl of aggression. He reached for his radio, but Maggie jumped out and kicked at his hand - the radio fell out of his grip, smashing on the floor, and the man yelled when her heel spur flickered out of her prosthetic foot and slashed across his fingers.

But this man moved quick - he launched forward and Maggie dodged backwards, tripping over one of the tranquilised soldiers. She fell back, jarring her elbow, and the soldier punched her in the jaw. The blow was glancing but it knocked her skull back against the metal floor, ringing her head like a bell.

Maggie blinked and focused on the soldier again as he raised his fist for another blow. He was a heavy man, with thick arms and a frightening look in his eye.

Maggie rolled to dodge the blow, but he didn't miss. His fist came down hard on her back.

The soldier let out a howl and Maggie turned over, back aching, to see him clutching his hand. She could tell from the odd shape of his knuckle that it was broken. A savage, wild feeling boiled up Maggie's throat - he'd hit one of the metal plates in her spine. He'd broken his hand on the metal on her bones.

Before the man could adjust, Maggie pulled her knees to her chest and kicked out, slamming her metal foot into the man's face. He fell back, out cold.

Maggie clambered to her feet, wide-eyed, then yanked her data stick from the computer console and hurried for the door. _Time's running out_.

She flung open the door and jumped down to the gravel ground, thoughts whirling, only to hear a shout to her left. She spun, lowering her centre of gravity, and made eye contact with the two soldiers staring at her from a few yards away. Their hands were already flying for their guns and Maggie was too far away to stop them. Her electroshock device only worked at short-range.

She whirled and her wings surged from her back, almost without a thought. They flared out, metal sliding, and half a second later Maggie felt the judder as a spray of bullets pelted against the wings. And _bounced off_.

Maggie's eyes widened. _Okay_.

Wing raised like a blast shield Maggie turned, freed the gun from her hip and fired twice at the wide-eyed men. They went down in two heaps.

Her breath burned in her lungs. She eyed the dark metal wings which now pulled tight against her back, cooling her skin. Until today, the wings had been more of a hobby. A way to get from A to B, a way to feel alive. But _this_ was something new. She'd made them bulletproof, but she'd never intended-

A radio crackled somewhere nearby, and Maggie realized she could hear shouting and running footsteps.

_Time's up._

Heart in her mouth, Maggie lurched back toward the nearest cave entrance. She kept her gun aloft and her wings assembled behind her as her feet pounded against the rock and the cool darkness of the cave fell over her.

She turned a corner and almost ran straight into two more soldiers, who were yelling into their radios. Maggie fired another electric bolt at one, then had to wrap herself in a wing as the other let off a rattle of machine gun fire. It felt like being punched by dozens of angry fists through a barrier of metal. When he paused, she spun towards him and snapped her wing out. It hit him full across the chest and slammed him into the cave wall. The gun clattered out of his unconscious hands.

Maggie didn't pause this time. She kept running, trusting her hastily-made mental map. When she reached the weapons room she fired on the three guards who'd appeared at the entrance, felling two and sending the third running in the opposite direction. _Huh_. Maggie had inspired fear as the Wyvern before, but that was usually through surprising her targets. But she supposed with her dark wings flared behind her, her cowl and her clawed fingers, she made a sight.

She stormed into the weapons room and began grabbing items. She took a few handguns, a rifle, two hand grenades, and for good measure hoisted a rocket launcher and slung it over her shoulder. At the door she pulled the pins from the hand grenades, tossed them in the general direction of the weapons crates, and then ran for it. She headed deeper into the cave system, circling back around the way she'd come, but she only made it a few yards before she heard two blasts, the sound thudding in her chest. She barely had a second to think: _shouldn't there be a larger_ -

A juddering _boom_ erupted behind her, the shockwave knocking her feet out from underneath her and the sound almost bursting her eardrums. The mountain itself seemed to shudder. Dust rained down on Maggie and the fluorescent lights overhead blinked and went out, casting her in darkness.

She rolled over, blinking in the gloom, to see that the corridor behind her had caved in. _Maybe I shouldn't have done that while I'm still in the cave._ But the way ahead of her was still clear, so Maggie pushed to her feet and kept running. Her right knee ached from the running and dodging on her prosthetic.

The caves were almost pitch black now, only a few of the fluorescent lights valiantly flickering. Maggie's footsteps were loud as she pelted through corridors. She passed three more men, who went the way of the others she had faced. One of them got off a shot which glanced off Maggie's outstretched wing and ricocheted against her arm, tearing through her sleeve and opening up a line of fire across her skin. Maggie winced at the pain even as she electrocuted the soldier, took a second to check that she wasn't about to bleed to death, then continued on.

She didn't make it all the way back to the cage room. A few corridors away she ran into the sixteen women - they were moving forwards as a pack, three of them wielding guns which they raised at Maggie, only to lower them a few seconds later. Maggie stood dumbly for a moment, staring at them. The women were breathless and wide-eyed, but they stood firm. _Three guns_ \- the women must have taken down another guard.

She looked into a few of the women's eyes and saw steel there.

Maggie smiled. "Well done," she told them. The warm glow of pride in her chest knocked her off balance. She unclipped the weapons she'd stolen from the cache and handed them over. Four more women came forward and took them wordlessly. Maggie ran her eyes over the group of them. "We need to be quick. Follow me."

Moving slightly slower so they could keep up, Maggie led them through the warren of corridors, back toward the cave entrance they'd come through first. More soldiers came across their path, only to fall beneath a spray of bullets. Maggie could only imagine what they looked like; sixteen dusty, tear-stained women jogging through the near-darkness, led by a black-clad woman with wings.

At the cave entrance, Maggie electrocuted another guard and peered out. The base looked like a swarming ants nest, with soldiers running every which way, flooding in and out of the far cave entrances, closer to where Maggie had set off the explosion. There were still dozens of men. Maggie thought she spied a few of the leaders over by the command tent, shouting orders.

Maggie ducked back into the cool shelter of the cave and turned to the women, who waited with wide eyes and their fingers on their triggers. The one who'd first spoken to Maggie, the one with the bruise on her cheekbone, looked back at her with burning eyes.

"Can any of you drive?" Maggie asked. About half of them nodded.

"Okay. Count to fifteen," she told them, "then run out to the left and take one of the transport trucks. Don't wait for me, just take the truck and go."

Before they could respond, Maggie darted back outside. Most of the men were concentrated around the other cave entrance, so they didn't spot her until she flared her wings and rocketed into the sky, her wings gleaming in the sunlight. Maggie made sure her engines roared, drawing every eye. For a few seconds they just stared at her. Maggie used those few seconds to grab the rocket launcher hanging from her shoulder, hoist it steady, and fired down at the tent full of weapons crates.

She was too close, again. The weapons tent went up in a roaring fireball, the heat scorching Maggie's skin and the light piercing her eyes. Metal and sparks spat out from the fireball and rained down on the rest of the base. Maggie banked and veered away, dropping the rocket launcher. With a furious shout from the leader, the men on the ground started firing up at her.

Maggie had never flown in battle before, but she'd spent hundreds of hours practicing. The moment gunfire rattled out beneath her she twisted into evasive maneuvers, roaring down into the base and zipping through the spaces between buildings and tents, using them as cover. The wind whisked over her face and her heart leapt as she turned down hairpin corners, the tips of her wings scraping against metal. A moment later she rose up again, flying faster and sharper than she ever had before. The gunfire followed her, slicing through the sky.

Maggie turned and saw, out of the corner of her eye, one of the armored trucks peel away from the rest, picking up speed as it headed for one of the narrow roads away from the base. A few soldiers noticed as well and turned, but Maggie pulled a handgun from her belt and dove, firing on the men and drawing their attention.

Like a bird of prey harrying a nest of small land animals, Maggie dove and darted on the Ten Rings base. The tents below were aflame, the Ten Rings flag burning. When the air grew too thick with bullets she dove again, retracting her wings and sprinting through the rocky crags, hiding herself on the ground, before flaring her wings and taking to the sky again. Her heart pounded steadily in her chest and her mind felt focused, sharp.

When her handgun clicked, its last round spent, Maggie shifted gears. She abandoned her close contact with the base and rocketed away, soaring around the mountainside and out of sight. She left the base smoking and spitting gunfire into empty air.

Once she was sure she had disappeared, Maggie banked around the mountain and found the dirt road the truck had taken. The sun shone warm on her back as she followed the road down, her wings spread. Her body thrummed with adrenaline, and when she glanced over her shoulder she could see smoke rising into the mountain air. Now that her ears weren't filled with the booming of guns and explosion, the world sounded awfully quiet - just the whistling wind and her own heartbeat.

She caught up with the truck a few minutes later. It raced down the road like a bat out of hell, bouncing over potholes and veering around the curves. It was a troop transport, with an armored cabin and a metal frame over the truck bed. There were a few paths through these mountains, but the truck had taken the one heading due west. Back home.

Maggie landed with a _thump_ on the metal roof of the truck, and she heard the women inside scream. Thankfully, whoever was driving didn't veer off the road. The path was getting narrower and more precipitous, with the rock face of the mountain on one side and a steep slope on the other.

Maggie clambered along the roof until she reached the back of the truck, then leaned over and knocked on the back door.

A moment later it opened and a woman's flushed, sweaty face looked up at her.

" _Salaam Alaikum_ ," Maggie breathed.

The woman broke into a surprised laugh. " _Wa-Alaikum Salaam_." She retreated into the truck, holding the door open. Maggie slid in a moment later, retracting her wings to fit through the door.

Steadying herself inside the back of the truck, Maggie looked up. The women were all breathless and frightened, still clutching weapons, and they stared at Maggie with new eyes. Maggie stared back at them, not sure what to say. So she just nodded at them, hoping that communicated everything she thought and felt.

She shuffled forward until she reached the opening to the driver's cabin. The woman with the bruised cheek was driving, her fingers white on the wheel. She glanced over her shoulder at Maggie.

"Keep driving," Maggie told her. She gripped the woman's shoulder and squeezed. "We've done the hard part."

* * *

Edwards Air Force Base, California

In the bustling mission control room, Rhodey's cellphone rang. He glanced down, and Tony's face looked back at him. _Dammit_ , he didn't have time for this. What with the chaos-causing unidentified bogey blowing up weapons depots in Gulmira, and these new reports about some kind of bizarre communication out of Tajikistan…

He picked up the phone. "Hello?"

" _Hi, Rhodey, it's me_."

He _knew it._ "It's who?" he pushed, needing to hear it.

" _I'm sorry, it is me_." Tony still sounded out of breath. " _What you were asking about is me_."

"No, see this isn't a game," Rhodey scolded. "You do not send civilian equipment into my active war zone. You understand that?"

" _This is not a piece of equipment, I'm in it. It's a suit. It's me!_ "

Rhodey's eyes widened and he turned to look back at the mission room, at the dozens of men doing their best to identify and destroy the bogey.

"Rhodey, you got anything for me?" called his CO.

Rhodey stared back at him, the phone falling from his ear.

Then the live feed from the pilots in the field caught his attention.

" _On your belly!_ " called Whiplash One, his voice high. " _It looks like a… man_!"

Rhodey's stomach dropped. _Of all the crazy things_ -

  
One heart-stopping minute later, Rhodey raised the phone back to his ear with a shaking hand.

"Tony, you still there?"

" _Hey, thanks_ ," Tony replied breathlessly. He sounded like he was smiling.

Rhodey closed his eyes in relief. "Oh my _god_ , you crazy son of a bitch." He let out a laugh. "You owe me a plane, you know that, right?"

Tony laughed. " _Yeah, well, technically he hit me. So… now are you going to come by and see what Mags and I are working on_?"

Rhodey shook his head even though his friend couldn't see. "No, no, no, the less I know, the better." Plus there'd be a lot to clean up after today. Even now on the other side of the room he could see another one of the COs coordinating engagement with the strange communication they'd picked up in Tajikistan. Christ, they were deploying F-22s as well.

"Now what am I supposed to tell the press?" Rhodey murmured into the phone.

" _Uh, training exercise. Isn't that the usual BS?_ "

"It's not that simple."

* * *

Afghanistan-Tajikistan Border

Maggie had crawled into the passenger seat and opened the windows, keeping an eye out for any followers. About an hour into their drive they heard distant _booms_ , making all the women sitting in the back of the transport stiffen. Maggie leaned out the window as the other woman - Amira - drove. When they rounded the next bend, Maggie looked back in the direction of the Ten Rings base to see a thicker plume of smoke rising into the sky. A moment later, she heard jet engines and looked up to see two F-22s rocket overhead, before turning back.

"It's the US Air Force," Maggie told the women when she leaned back into the truck.

"How did they know?" Amira asked, her voice tight.

Maggie smiled. "I told them." While downloading all the base's data onto her own device, Maggie had programmed an outgoing signal that would be picked up for miles around. It said, in Arabic, English, Russian, and Farsi: _The Ten Rings are not afraid_.

Maggie had guessed that the Tajik military would get there first, but clearly the US Air Force had been quick on the uptake today. But no matter who got there first, the Ten Rings were screwed.

Her smile lasted another hour, until Amira turned another steep mountain bend and stomped on the brakes. They screeched to a halt, coming to a stop just feet away from where the rest of the road had crumbled away in a rockslide, leaving an impassable barrier. For a few moments they just sat there, engine idling, staring at the missing road.

"I must have taken a wrong turn," Amira whispered, her voice tired and horrified.

In the back, a few of the women began to cry.

Maggie stared. The road was far too narrow here to turn around, with a ravine plunging down on their left, and who knew what they might find even if they could turn back. She wasn't so arrogant as to imagine that none of the Ten Rings had managed to escape.

Soft, suffocating hopelessness filled the inside of the truck. The chill mountain wind whistled around them.

Maggie glanced at Amira, but the woman was looking out her window, glaring with tear-filled eyes at the ravine beside them. It was a deep chasm, with a river glinting at the bottom. The sides were too steep to climb.

Amira let out a frustrated sigh. "On the other side is home."

Maggie followed her gaze to the other side. It was less mountainous there, the treacherous shale giving way to sand, then desert. In the distance Maggie could see a river. It was wide, and glinted in the sunlight. _That must be the Pamir. The border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan._ The village these women had been stolen from was on that river.

Maggie eyed the steep ravine again, calculating. She gauged the distance.

Finally, she turned in her seat and looked at the tired women in the back of the truck. She swallowed. "Everybody get out of the truck."

Maggie made sixteen trips back and forth over the ravine.

When she came back for the last woman, Amira, her arms ached and her engines roared in her ears, but her wings held steady. Amira had been adamant about being last - she'd stayed by the truck, armed with a machine gun, her eyes on the road.

Amira's arms wrapped around Maggie's neck and Maggie grabbed her around the waist, as she had done with everyone else. "Hold tight," she murmured, and then fired up her engines once more. Amira yelped and tightened her grip, but did not scream as they sailed over the edge of the ravine and into empty air.

None of the women had screamed. Maggie's eyes prickled with pride and exhaustion as she soared over the vast chasm, and the group of women on the other side grew larger and larger. Her wings worked hard to take the extra weight, but she had designed them well. They beat once, twice, and then Maggie and Amira's feet touched down on the other side. They let each other go, and shared savage grins.

One of the other women (Javaneh - Maggie had asked each of their names as they soared over the gaping ravine) let out a short laugh. "I hope you can walk as well as you can fly!"

They walked for two hours across the harsh landscape, until they came to the border town of Eshkashem. The townspeople saw them coming when they crested the last rise, and by the time they had walked down to the river, refugees from the raided village had flooded out, running toward the women with tears running down their faces and their arms spread wide.

Maggie stayed on the rise, watching as the women collided with their husbands, children, and parents, weeping and laughing. There was joy there, but also grief, the refugees holding each other as they wept for their broken home.

When Maggie could find the energy to move again, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She powered it on, and then frowned - there was a host of notifications from her various search algorithms and news subscriptions, as well as a communication from one of her most reliable shadow world contacts:

_US Air Force is losing its collective mind over a 'metal man' in the sky over Gulmira. Seems like your kind of weird, Wyvern._

A thrill went down Maggie's spine. _Surely not…?_ She put her phone away, her tired brain suddenly kicking back into gear. _I need to get home._ She powered up her engines again, rolling her shoulders, but a moment before she took off she looked down again, at the small crowd by the river.

The women were waving. They'd turned, as if noticing that Maggie was not among them, spotted her back up on the rise and were waving to her. Maggie could just make out their faces. Her heart lurched. She raised her hand, hoping that the gesture conveyed everything she felt.

Then the Wyvern flared her wings and soared into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys are impatient for Bucky! But I promise I've got a plan, and it's going to be very worth it once we get there ;)


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are a little shorter, sorry! I promise they're worth it ;) And I'll most likely update midweek again.

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Maggie thundered down the stone stairs to the workshop, taking them three at a time.

She'd driven straight here from the airport, after an exhausting flight back home. She'd managed to change and patch herself up a bit on the flight, but she was still in sore need of a shower and a sleep.

She realized halfway down the stairs that the plate glass walls at the bottom had been completely smashed, so she didn't bother with the door, instead hopping through the frame. She first spotted the gleaming red and gold armor, partially disassembled amongst the yellow assembly robots. She glanced around, cheeks flushed, and then noticed Tony sitting in the workspace on a stool, his hands between his knees, looking cowed. He didn't look injured at all, though.

"You did it!" Maggie exclaimed, her boots crunching in the smashed glass on the floor. Tony looked up, eyes wide. "You really did it!" She hurried over to the disassembled suit, admiring the new design and the paintjob. "Did the targeting array work? And the onboard weapons system? And the sustained flight - you went to the Middle East and back with full power? And-" she turned, and realized that Tony was frantically gesturing for her to shut up, cutting his hand across his throat.

Maggie shut her mouth, then turned and spotted Pepper leaning against the wall by the door, her arms crossed and a deep scowl on her face. Maggie swallowed.

"You _helped_ him do this?" Pepper asked, gesturing at the suit.

Maggie glanced at Tony, and he shrugged guiltily. She looked back at Pepper. "I… yeah, I did."

"He could have got himself killed!" Pepper exclaimed. "Look at that armor!"

Maggie looked, and realized what she'd missed: bullet holes. They weren't through-and-throughs, just circular indentations. Her stomach swooped and she turned back to Tony. "Gulmira?" she asked.

He nodded, a glint in his eye.

Maggie wanted to crow and celebrate, and also to double check that Tony was okay, but she forced herself to take a sobering breath and turn back to Pepper. _Guess the cat's out of the bag._

But Pepper was eyeing Maggie sharply now. "And what happened to you? Where have you been?"

Maggie paused. She knew she had a darkening bruise on her jaw, and a bandage around her upper arm where one of the bullets had opened a shallow slice in her arm. Her back ached from the sixteen trips across the ravine, too, but she'd been mostly able to hide that.

She went with a casual shrug. "Rough night out. I don't know what it is about being a Stark that makes people challenge me to drinking contests, but… they never win."

Tony snorted, but Maggie kept her eyes on Pepper. Pepper didn't break eye contact with her, and silence stretched between them for a few moments. Maggie could feel Pepper's worry crackling in the air, stretched toward Tony and Maggie and the bullet-ridden armor at the center of the workshop. Maggie didn't know what Pepper had been imagining they were up to these past months, but she probably didn't expect _this_.

Eventually, Pepper let out a sigh. "Fine." She turned, stepped gingerly through the pile of glass littering the floor, and left up the stairs.

For a moment, Tony and Maggie stewed in guilty silence. But then Dum-E beeped lowly, and they both looked over at him. He held a gold metal face plate in his claw.

Maggie let out a breath, then walked over to take the face plate from him. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the design. She looked up and met Tony's eyes. "Tell me _everything_."

He told her everything. The Firefighter's Benefit, Obie's ominous declaration, the takeover of Gulmira. How Tony had put on the Mark III armor, flown to Gulmira, liberated the town and then completely destroyed the Ten Rings weapons depot. Maggie couldn't help but smile at his retelling. Between her and Tony's efforts, the Ten Rings had had a bad day. She was sure there were still bases out there, but they'd be scrambling for months after losing that many men, weapons, and resources. And though she should be concerned about the fact that Tony had been shot at by missiles and Air Force F-22s, she was _ecastatic_ that he'd made it through with barely a bruise.

The armor had more than exceeded their hopes.

"Is Rhodey mad about the F-22?" Maggie asked. They both sat on stools in the workspace, drinking coffee that was actually hot, for once.

Tony shrugged. "Not as mad as I expected. He knows I'm up to something now, but he said he wants to stay out of it."

"Might be for the best," Maggie murmured. "Don't really want the Air Force getting their hands on this." She nodded at the suit, and then winced when her bruised jaw twinged.

Tony frowned. "You okay?" his eyes flicked over her, but Maggie waved a hand before he could notice more aches and pains.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "I'm proud of you. What you did in Gulmira…" she blew out a breath. "It's going to change so many people's lives. Don't forget that."

His gaze dropped, and his brow knotted into a frown. "But Maggie, those weapons they had… those shipments were _recent_. They had the Jericho missile. Our weapons are _still_ being sold to terrorists."

A chill went through her. "I know." If the Stark weapons at the base in Tajikistan hadn't been proof enough, she'd also been going through the data she stole and found enough information to realize that the Ten Rings still had a steady supply of Stark weapons, despite the board takeover.

Tony's eyes widened. "You know?"

"Yes," she said. "I've been trying to figure out how they're getting them, but… I'm on the outs with the company, same as you. I've been…" she shook her head. She couldn't tell him. _Still_ , despite all he'd done in Gulmira, she couldn't tell him. She met his eyes. "We need to stop this."

He held her gaze, and Maggie realized that there was a burning anger in his eyes to match hers. She _wasn't_ alone in this: Tony felt exactly the same way she did. It made her want to cry.

Tony drew in a breath. "We need to figure out how they're getting them. I don't know if Obie actually knows anything about it, or if he just doesn't care. Or if he just thinks I'm crazy. _And_ we need to figure out where the weapons are going. Destroy them all."

Maggie pressed her lips together, wondering how much to give away. She'd uncovered a lead from her stolen data while going through it on the plane back: a name. She didn't have the whole picture, but the data had shown one of the avenues through which the Ten Rings got their weapons. There was a weapons buyer in the US Army, a General Rowes, who had been in contact with the Ten Rings. Maggie knew him - he'd been at her weapons presentation the day she decided to leave Stark Industries. Maggie suspected that the General was signing off on weapons shipments that never actually reached the Army, in exchange for a cut from the Ten Rings. It was just a hunch based on a few mentions of his name, but it was a lead.

She let out a breath. "I might… I can…"

But Tony was shaking his head. "Maggie, I want you to keep out of this. Whatever's going on, it's too dangerous - the Ten Rings, whoever else is involved. And you can't get into SI right now without people asking questions, so I want you to stay safe. Head to your apartment and lay low for a few days."

Maggie's eyes flashed. "Tony, this is as much my problem to fix as it is yours-"

"No," he said. "You saw the problems in the company years before I did, and you weren't even running it. It took me being imprisoned in a cave for three months to have a change of heart." His eyes darkened. "Thank you for helping me with the armor, and for being here, but this… this is on me."

Her fists curled. "Tony. This is _our legacy._ I knew that things had to change because I knew how it felt to be… to be hurt. Torn apart." Tony's eyes shadowed. "But I ran away." Guilt crashed over Maggie, and she closed her eyes. "Let me stay and fix this."

He leaned over and gripped her shoulder. "Just… please stay safe for me, Maggie. I can't see you hurt again."

The gesture reminded Maggie so much of Obie's paternalism disguised as protection that she shook his hand off. She opened her eyes and looked into his face. _We are too much alike, you and I_ , she wanted to say. But instead she stood up, drew in a breath, and walked out of the workshop.

"Where are you going?" Tony called after her.

She didn't reply.

* * *

Afghanistan

Obadiah Stane and Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar exchanged barbs in the bitter night air of the desert, surrounded by soldiers. Raza gestured to his burned face.

"Compliments of Tony Stark."

"Well if you'd killed him when you were supposed to, you'd still have a face," Obadiah smiled. He cocked his head. "And I stopped your pathetic attempt at a ransom request from reaching Ms Stark." He set his hands on his hips and sighed, his breath coming out as a cloud of condensation. "She'd have paid anything to get her brother back, and it seemed cruel - especially when neither you or I intended for him to return alive." His eyebrows rose, thinking of the spoiled billionaire currently sitting in his mansion basement in LA. "And yet."

"You paid us trinkets to kill a prince," Raza hissed.

Obie's attempt at good humour fell off his face. "Show me the weapon."

* * *

Twelve hours later, Obadiah sat sipping whiskey on a private jet soaring back to America. He eyed the pieces of metal armor that had been stacked on the seats across from him.

He thought of Raza's pitiful attempts at scheming. _And you dream of Stark's throne_ , he had said. As if Obadiah wanted to take what Tony had. No - Obadiah would take what he had, and make it better. Step away from Tony's qualms and hesitations. He'd turn Tony's kingdom into an _empire_.

He let out a long, slow breath, and sipped his whiskey.

 _Soon_ , he thought, _there'll be no need for Starks at all._

* * *

Tony didn't share his plans with Maggie. He holed himself up in his workshop, tinkering, so Maggie let him be.

And she didn't share her plans with him. She worked methodically through the data she'd stolen from the Tajikistan base, and did some tinkering of her own at one of the Stark Industries workspaces, after hours. While she was there she thought about trying to get up to the executive wing again, but there were still too many eyes, and the thought made her feel strangely guilty.

A couple of days in, the same receptionist told Maggie that she was no longer allowed to use the engineering spaces either.

"I'm really sorry, Ms Stark," she said, scarlet-faced. "But the board has said that until they can figure out your employment status, and since there's confidential projects being constructed in there-"

"It's fine," Maggie sighed, feeling as if everything was slipping away from her, like the tide going out to sea. "I was finished anyway."

So she retreated to her apartment like Tony had asked her to, delving into terabytes of data. She tipped back into her shadow world and was alarmed at what she found - two days ago, there'd been a flare of activity among the Ten Rings. After several hours of trying to parse the conflicting reports, all Maggie knew was that there had been some kind of takeover. Another base in the Afghanistan desert had been completely annihilated, and the rest of the organisation was scrambling. A new player had hit the scene, and seemed to be consolidating power in the area.

She'd been right about her hunch about General Rowes. After the flare up of activity, Rowes had reached out to his Ten Rings contacts and set up a weapons exchange. In the _US._ Maggie had cracked his encrypted message and gotten the time and location: two days from now, at a smuggler's runway deep in the Mojave Desert. _Can't send through usual means, there are too many eyes_ , the message read. Maggie's brow creased. Eyes like hers? Though she supposed what with her and Tony smashing Ten Rings secure bases in Afghanistan, their confidence had to be shaken.

With the message decrypted, Maggie had sat on her balcony as the sun went down, thinking it over. The powers out in the world were shifting in response to Tony's bold introduction as the bulletproof metal man. General Rowes was planning to offload a frightening amount of Stark weapons which his Ten Rings contacts would take back to the Middle East and… Maggie tried to fill in the gaps. Probably reassert their power in the area. Retake Gulmira, and the other areas where they got rich off oil fields and power brokering and slave labor. Whoever was hoping to take over the Ten Rings - maybe Rowes - wanted a power base there.

At the expense of people like Aisha, and the women Maggie had rescued from that base in Tajikistan.

Staring out at the burning orange horizon, Maggie made her decision. She'd be at that weapons drop. She'd put a stop to it, and question the culprits. Rowes hadn't confirmed whether he'd be there or not, and if he was, Maggie might have the main seller of Stark weapons and the aspiring head of the Ten Rings in her grip. But doubts niggled at the back of her mind. Rowes... didn't seem like the mastermind behind the mirror. He hadn't been careful enough with his communications, too direct and too brash. And yet somehow not assertive enough. Maybe he wasn't alone. Maybe he had an ally.

For a moment, Maggie contemplated sharing what she'd learned. But who could she share it with? Not Tony - he wanted to protect her from all this, and she wanted to protect him. She supposed it was a matter of who could get rid of the danger first. And besides, Tony wasn't exactly quiet. Maggie's next steps had to be careful - intercept the weapons drop, and squeeze every ounce of information about the Stark weapons leak she could out of the culprits. Tony and his armor were better suited for… well, she'd seen the pictures of what he'd done in Gulmira.

Maggie fully intended to involve the authorities, but only once she figured out who was involved. If an Army General was involved in selling Stark Industries weapons, who knew who else could be implicated?

It would be nice to share the burden.

But the Wyvern worked alone.

Maggie got to her feet and drew in a deep breath. Whatever Rowes's involvement, Maggie would be at that weapons drop. So she had better start preparing.

* * *

Beneath the Arc Reactor at Stark Industries, SI's best engineers pieced together parts of a metal suit of armor.

* * *

November 24, 2009  
Stark Mansion, Malibu

Once more, Tony asked Pepper to come down to his workshop. When she appeared in the doorway he could see her trepidation. She hadn't been down here since the night she'd caught him in the armor, and they'd hardly spoken since.

Her eyes flickered toward him, and then to the armor - just the top half was propped up in his workspace, the wires bared as he calibrated the cybernetic synapses.

"Where's Maggie?" Pepper asked, her voice soft.

Tony's brow pinched. "I wanted to keep her safe, and she just… well, she's not here." He shook his head and pulled his hands free of the armor. Pepper's eyes were still on it. "You busy? You mind if I send you on an errand?"

He gave Pepper her task: hack into the mainframe via his own computer at SI, to retrieve all the recent shipping manifests. He handed over the lock chip and kept his instructions low and steady. He didn't want to put Pepper at risk either, but this was a low risk task. Corporate crime, sure, but it wasn't a battlefield. And Pepper was the only one he trusted with access to his office right now. Tony had been banned since the press conference, and a few weeks later Obie had told Tony off for being a _bad influence_ on Maggie and hinted that because of him, Maggie wouldn't be allowed into the SI executive wing.

Pepper listened to his instructions with a solemn, dark-eyed expression, and then began to question him. Tony couldn't take the shaky concern in her voice, so he turned away and opened up a set of digital blueprints.

"Tony…" she sighed. "You know that I would help you with anything, but… I cannot help you if you're going to start all of this again."

"There is nothing _except_ this. There is no art opening, no benefit, there is _nothing_ to sign." He turned, trying to keep his voice from rising. "There is the next mission, and nothing else."

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice impossibly soft. "Well then, I quit." She tossed the lock stick back on his workbench and turned to leave.

Tony felt as if something had been carved out of his chest, deeper than the arc reactor. "You stood by my side all these years while I reaped the benefits of destruction," he murmured. Pepper turned, her eyes burning. "And now that I'm trying to protect the people that I put in harm's way, you're going to walk out?"

"You're going to kill yourself, Tony," she hissed. "I'm not going to be a part of it."

Tony ground his jaw, then took a seat again. If Pepper didn't understand, if she didn't see… he didn't know what he'd do. He looked down and changed tacks. Honesty. It had to be honesty. "I shouldn't be alive." He swallowed past the blockage in his throat. "Unless it was for a reason." He took a long breath and turned to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide. "I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know… what I have to do." For a long moment they stared at each other. "And I know in my heart" - his voice cracked on the word - "that it's right."

_That's it. That's all I have._

Pepper exhaled, her gaze heavy. And then she walked back. She picked up the lock stick, examined it. Then she met his eyes again.

"You're all I have too, you know." She turned without another word and walked for the stairs. Tony watched her go.

* * *

Maggie roared up route 40 on her motorbike, a satchel on the back. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, to where she could see the forest and hills turning into the sprawling sand and scrub of the desert. Her hands clenched on the handlebars.

* * *

Stark Industries, California

Phil Coulson sat in the comfortable leather chairs of the Stark Industries lobby, his hands clasped in his lap and a pleasant smile fixed to his face. He'd thought after finally pinning Stark and his PA down for an appointment that he would get the answers SHIELD had been waiting for, but it appeared he'd been stood up. But then he glanced to his right and saw a harried-looking Pepper Potts hurrying down the stairs.

"Ms Potts?" he called. She practically flinched. "We had an appointment." He couldn't quite read the look in her eyes, but she didn't stop walking. "Did you forget about our appointment?"

"Nope, right now," she said firmly, her pace brisk. "Come with me." She had something clenched in her fist, gripping so tight that her knuckles were white.

"Right now?" He got up.

"We're going to have it right now, come with me." He didn't miss the fear in her voice this time, and he fell into step beside her. "Yeah, walk with me."

"Okay." On edge now, Phil's eyes darted around the room. He followed Ms Potts's gaze up to the next floor, where he spotted Obadiah Stane leaning against the banister, looking down at them with a fixed, grim gaze.

"I'm going to give you the meeting of your life," Ms Potts breathed. "Your office."

* * *

Obadiah Stane burst into Sector 16, the division he'd set up in the Arc Reactor building, and screamed at the lead engineer when he told him that the technology to miniaturize the arc reactor _didn't exist._

"Tony Stark was able to build this in a _cave_!" he roared, towering over the wide-eyed man. "With a box of scraps!"

He could feel the engineer shaking. "Well I'm sorry," the man said, lowly. "I'm not Tony Stark."

* * *

The Mojave Desert, California

Maggie reached the edge of the desert just as dusk fell, leeching away the warm orange sunset and the lingering heat. She hid her bike a few feet off the road, and pulled out the items in her satchel. Working quickly, she got dressed in the increasing darkness, pulling on a close-fitting dark flight suit, her wing pack and gloves, and a new cowl that she had designed the last few days. When she was finished, she touched a button on the side of her cowl.

Two glowing red eyes illuminated the darkness.

* * *

SHIELD Headquarters, Los Angeles

Sitting in Phil Coulson's office. Pepper called Tony for about the seventh time. She'd been trying to get a hold of him all through her frantic explanations to Agent Coulson while they went through the data recovered from the SI computer, and her calls kept ringing out. This wasn't unusual for Tony, but today it made her heart feel like it was shriveling in her chest.

When this phone call connected she gasped. "Tony?" Agent Coulson, sitting on the other side of the desk, looked up.

There was no answer, just a strange buzzing over the line.

"Tony, are you there?" She glanced at Coulson and shook her head. "Hello?"

The call disconnected, leaving her with a dial tone. Something hot and prickly washed over Pepper and she made eye contact with Agent Coulson.

"He picked up, but… didn't say anything." Her lips pressed together. "I'm going to call Rhodey to go get him to check on Tony."

Coulson's mouth narrowed, but other than that his expression didn't change. "Alright. But based on what you've showed us" - he gestured to the computer where they had loaded the contents of the lockstick Pepper had brought with her - "We need to head over to this Section 16 and shut it down."

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Tony lay frozen, his heart thundering uselessly, as Obie cut his arc reactor out of his chest. His eyes were fixed wide open, unblinking, and his whole body _ached_ from the sensation of every muscle locking in place. He could do nothing but stare at Obie's horrifically calm face.

Tony had learned back at the benefit that Obie had turned on him, but he didn't realize it was like _this_. _Obie_ had ordered the hit on him in Afghanistan, _Obie_ had been selling their weapons to violent men. He didn't recognize the smiling monster practically kneeling on his chest.

Well no, he _did_ recognize him. He knew the small smile on Obie's face, and his low, calm voice. It was his _business_ face.

The high-pitched noise of slicing metal filled his ears. Tony wanted to shout but he couldn't move. He could hardly breathe. He felt the arc reactor disconnect from his chest and he managed a strangled groan. It slid out of him, glowing white, and Tony practically saw his life bleed out with it.

Obie's eyes gleamed in the white glow. "Oh, Tony," he murmured, admiring the reactor. He sat down beside Tony, arm around his shoulders. "This is your ninth symphony. What a masterpiece. Look at that." He held the reactor up to Tony's face and Tony _burned_ with rage. He'd never really been one for hatred, but this… sitting rigid and frozen as his heart beat wildly and his breath wheezed in his chest as the man he'd trusted all his life breathed words of betrayal… if Tony could move, he didn't know what he'd do.

 _My whole life, Obie has been there._ Tony recalled Obie laughing with his father, slapping him on the back. Obie kissing his mother on the cheek. Obie the five-year-old Maggie in the hospital with a bouquet of sunflowers.

"This is your legacy," Obie murmured in Tony's ear, holding up the reactor, and the hatred guttered. He felt _shame_. Shame that he'd believed the lie, and let something far more powerful than a missile fall into the wrong hands.

"A new generation of weapons with _this_ at its heart." Tony stared into the glowing arc reactor. "Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, put the balance of power in _our_ hands." Obie began to pull away. "The right hands."

Tony fought his frozen muscles, hopelessly. _All those people, all the ones I was trying to protect. Pepper. Maggie._

Obie laughed under his breath. "I wish you could see my prototype. It's not as… well, not as _conservative_ as yours."

Tony felt a bone-deep shudder, and his eyes gleamed. _The armor. He's taken that, too._

Obie sighed as he packed the reactor in a briefcase. "Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would have preferred that she lived." He closed the briefcase and stood to leave, but then paused. "I hope you haven't involved your sister, either. After it was clear she'd be of no use I thought I might as well let her go." He sighed. "Well, either she'll come around to my way of thinking, or she'll end up…" he looked down at Tony, slumped on the couch, with a curled lip. "Just like you." He cocked his head. "I think all she ever wanted was to end up like you."

Tony stared, eyes white and wild, his chest empty, and could not move.

Obie turned and strode out without looking back.

* * *

On his way out of the mansion, Obadiah made a call to the private security force he'd hired at the beginning of this mess.

"Sir?" they answered.

"Pick up Margaret Stark from her apartment in Los Angeles," Obadiah instructed, sliding into the drivers seat of his car. "Bring her to me."

"Right away, sir."

Obadiah hung up. _Either she'll be my ticket to running the company, or she's in my way._ His hands clenched on the steering wheel. _And I don't tolerate things getting in my way any more._

* * *

Mojave Desert, California

Maggie's phone buzzed in her jacket pocket.

She ignored it, as she had the ten other times it had buzzed, because she was busy flying. She soared over the desert in darkness, the stars clear and bright overhead and the land a hazy mass of sand and scrub below. The air temperature had plummeted once night fell, and she was glad for the extra layers she'd decided to wear.

She wore black from head to toe, save for the pair of goggles she'd built: they glowed red, slitted in a permanent glare. They were more than a scary statement, however. She'd built a HUD into the goggles, inspired by Tony, so she could see her current altitude, speed, the air temperature, and her coordinates.

She was getting close to the coordinates from the encrypted message, so she switched over to thermographic vision to scan for heat signatures. The desert became an undulating wave of blue and black, with dull orange pockets of heat left over from the warmth of the sun.

Her phone buzzed again, and the caller ID popped up in the top right of her HUD: _Pepper Potts_. Maggie sighed and ignored it again. She checked her coordinates and banked slightly to the left, feeling the wind pressure shift against her wings.

Then a text message appeared in the top right of her HUD, from Pepper:

_OBADIAH PAID FOR TONY TO BE KILLED IN AFGHANISTAN._

Maggie faltered in the air. She had to look away to adjust her wings, but when she glanced back the text message still glowed there, damning.

_Obie._

With a twitch of her fingers she scanned through her recent calls: lots from Rhodey and Pepper, but none from Tony. She instantly hit his number, and the ringtone sounded in her ears.

"Come on, Tony," she muttered, coasting through the air with her heart in her mouth. Dread slid down her spine like molasses.

The call went to voicemail. Maggie tried again, and when that call also went to voicemail fear spiked into her heart.

On the edge of her vision she spotted a flare of yellow. She looked up, switching out of thermographic vision, and spotted lights about a mile away: she couldn't make out any details but the lights were white, electric.

In the same moment, Pepper's face popped up at the corner of her HUD again as her phone rang. This time, she picked up.

"Pepper?" she breathed, angling towards the lights.

" _Maggie?_ " Pepper sounded flustered. " _Where-_ "

A blazing light erupted from the desert right beneath Maggie. She didn't have time to dodge, and the light swallowed her whole with a crackle of static. The call cut out, Maggie's HUD died, and a moment later her wings failed and she fell out the sky.

* * *

Los Angeles, California

Pepper stared at her phone in mounting panic. She turned to Agent Coulson. They sat in the back seat of a dark sedan which careened through the streets of LA. "She picked up, but then hung right up _as well_ , and now I can't raise her. Neither she or Tony are answering, I don't-"

"You said Colonel Rhodes is going to the mansion to look for Mr Stark?" Coulson cut her off.

"Yes, I-"

"We're working on tracing Ms Stark now," Coulson said calmly, "but in the meantime we need to concentrate on Mr Stane. Will you be able to let us into this Sector 16 in Stark Industries?"

Pepper took a deep breath, then swallowed her fear. There was nothing she could do for Tony or Maggie right now. She had to hope they were being their usual non-phone-answering selves. "Yes."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Mojave Desert, California

Maggie pounded a clenched fist into the sand. " _Shit_ ," she groaned.

Her mind had gone a bit fuzzy somewhere between being hit and then hitting the ground, but all too soon sensation came rushing back, bringing with it a crackling burn of pain up and down her body. She had sand everywhere, in her mouth and her nose despite the cowl, and she felt as if someone had stuck her in a tumble dryer full of rocks. She touched her right arm which stung from her crashing slide to the ground, but thankfully her armored jacket had stayed in one piece.

She tried to push herself to her feet, only for her legs to jerk and throb numbly, barely moving.

Maggie's breath caught in her chest. She rolled over and looked down at her legs, then tried to move them again. The prosthetic didn't move at all, and her left leg flopped uselessly. She smacked her knee, only to feel about half the sensation.

_No. No, no, no._

She must have been hit by some kind of electronic pulse deactivator. It had taken out her wings, gloves, phone, goggles, _and_ the internal wiring from her childhood surgeries. Her breath became sharp and fast in her throat, and she tried to shake life into her legs. The numb sensation, like pins and needles, reminded her of those long months after the car crash.

The low rumble of an engine cut through the quiet desert air, and Maggie looked up to see a 4WD car approaching over the gloomy sand rise. Beyond the car she could see the lights that had distracted her earlier - a floodlit tarmac runway, on which sat a small dual engine plane surrounded by crates. Dark shapes scurried around the plane, loading crates onto it. _Found the weapons smugglers._

Her eyes focused on the approaching car again. _The plane is the least of my problems._ She reached for her hip, reassuring herself that the guns she'd brought were still there. Just as the car crested the last rise, almost blinding her with its headlights, feeling tingled back through Maggie's legs, prickling from the base of her spine and down to her toes. She let out a relieved sob. She knew the internal wiring had been designed to be resilient, but she'd been worried that whatever had hit her had done permanent damage. She wriggled her toes and sighed at the twinge of pain that she felt - if she could feel pain, she was _feeling_.

She tried to rise, but her legs were still too shaky.

The car rolled to a halt a few yards away and all the doors burst open as six armed men flooded out, their guns instantly trained on Maggie. They kept their distance, circling around until she was completely surrounded. A moment later an older man stepped out from the passenger side door: it was hard to make out his features in the darkness, but then Maggie placed the close-cropped salt and pepper hair, and the sharp glinting eyes in the lined face. _General Rowes_.

Maggie touched the side of her goggles, and to her relief the HUD flickered to life.

_FATAL CRASH_ , read the error message. _REBOOT CONNECTED SYSTEMS_?

Maggie twitched a finger and the writing shifted: _REBOOTING ALL SYSTEMS_.

General Rowes came to a stop a few feet away from Maggie, his hands on his hips as he looked down at her. He didn't wear his Army uniform, but he still had the attitude: shoulders straight, chin high. He'd stood like that when he'd been buying weapons from her. Maggie struggled up to her knees, glaring behind her darkened goggles. Her wings hung from her back, just two pieces of heavy, drooping metal.

"We were expecting the metal man," Rowes said. "But you will do. You're the winged woman from the Tajikistan incident." He _tsk_ ed, and Maggie cursed under her breath.

_A trap._ She'd gotten cocky. Of course the Ten Rings survivors would have reported to their bosses about her.

"You're here for the weapons, right?" Rowes gestured back at the illuminated runway with the stacks of weapons crates, still being loaded onto the transport plane. He turned back and smiled, his teeth white like a movie star's. "Normally I don't get involved in this sort of thing. But you've decided to take it upon yourself to disrupt business. And that's an unacceptable expense."

Maggie kept a fraction of her attention on him and on the armed men standing around her as she checked her wing diagnostics through her HUD. They were rebooting too, but far slower than she would like. She clenched her fist, wishing she'd thought to include a mechanical failsafe if the central computer got knocked out, so she could have stayed in the air.

Rowes clasped his hands behind his back, in parade rest. "I've got authorization from my CO to shoot you where you stand," he said evenly, then smirked. "Or rather, where you kneel."

Maggie pushed to her feet. She almost keeled backwards from the drag of her wings, their ends trailing in the sand, but she locked her leg muscles to stay upright. "Do you mean Obadiah Stane?" she asked with a quietness and confidence she didn't feel.

Rowes's confident expression dropped.

_So it's true_. Maggie's blood boiled.

Rowes rallied himself and scoffed. "Let's see who you are, before we shoot you," he said to Maggie, then gestured to one of his armed men. "Probably some nobody from that warzone in the middle east."

Maggie heard two pairs of footsteps behind her, and let out a breath. They might have deactivated her wings, but she was _not_ helpless.

When the soldiers reached out to grab her, she struck. She turned and slashed her clawed gloves over the first one's face, making him scream, then launched forward and grabbed the other one by the collar, yanking him around as a human shield just as the others yelled and fired on her.

The man she'd grabbed screamed when the bullets hit him, but Maggie hardened her heart to it. She surged backwards to escape the encircling soldiers, pulling her own gun and firing back. Bullets kicked up sand and everyone was yelling, the other soldiers scrambling to get cover and shoot back, Rowes shouting orders as he ran back to the car with another soldier covering him. Maggie hit one of the men and he dropped, spilling blood on the sand.

Maggie dropped the man she'd been using as a shield and dove behind a dust-coloured rock. She cursed when she heard the car drive off, heading back to the runway, but she still had at least three other soldiers in her way. They'd split up in the chaos. Bullets sprayed through the air, cracking against the rocks.

With perfect timing her HUD flared fully to life, its environmental readings back online and the red light glowing. She switched over to thermographic imaging again, then dove into the sand and slithered forward like some desert reptile. Her wings dragged along with her. The soldier crouching in the dry bushes didn't see her coming when she popped up and shot him in the chest.

She turned, aiming for the soldier laying down thick sprays of cover fire, but then the 360 degree sensor built into her cowl blared an alert and she spun just in time to dodge the machine gun pointed at her by the soldier who'd snuck up on her. He was the one she'd clawed earlier, and the whole left side of his face was slick with blood from the three jagged slices across his cheek. He snarled when she dodged out of the way and kicked at her, hitting her hand and making drop her gun.

He swung his gun at her like a club, catching her in the stomach and winding her. Gasping, Maggie freed the tactical knife from its holster on her hip, ducked under another swing from the snarling soldier, then drove the knife up into his exposed side, feeling it slide between his ribs.

The man collapsed on top of Maggie, driving the breath out of her again, and she fought him off with a shove. Gunfire pelted closer, so she grabbed the edge of her limp wing and drew it up over herself like a protective cloak. Bullets sparked off the metal surface a moment later. Still wheezing and trying to catch her breath, Maggie did a quick head count: six soldiers, three of them now dead, with another one escorting General Rowes back to the plane.

_Two to go_.

At the same moment, another alert flashed on her HUD: _WEAPONS SYSTEM ONLINE_. She heard the machinery built into her gloves come to life with a whir.

* * *

Stark Industries, California

Obadiah pressed the stolen arc reactor into his prototype suit, and smiled grimly up at the blank metal face.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Tony woke with a start when Rhodey's hands fell on his back, turning him over.

"Tony! You okay?"

Pale-faced and drenched in sweat, Tony rolled over and glanced around wildly. He must have passed out after slamming the old arc reactor into his chest, which… his heart thudded as he realized how close to death he'd come. And it had been _Dum-E_ that saved him.

Then his heart fell still. _Obie_. His _new prototype._

Tony grabbed Rhodey's sleeve with shaking hands. "Where's Pepper? Where's Maggie?"

Rhodey's eyes were wide. "Pepper's fine, she's with five agents. They're about to arrest Obadiah."

Tony caught his breath. "That's not going to be enough." Groaning, he tried to push to his feet. Rhodey helped him up. "And Maggie?"

Rhodey hesitated. "We don't know yet-"

Fear nearly stopped Tony's heart all over again. "J.A.R.V.I.S., call Maggie!"

" _Of course, sir._ "

Once Tony stood on his own two feet, he met Rhodey's eyes again. "Come on, I'll show you what I've been working on."

* * *

Mojave Desert, California

The two soldiers left were cautious, darting from boulder to boulder and trying to get an angle on Maggie. Maggie crept through the darkness out of their reach, gun in one hand as her wings trailed behind her.

One of the soldiers popped up from behind cover and fired at her, so she dodged behind a rock in a crouch. Her heart had been beating an erratic rhythm against her ribs since she hit the ground, and it felt close to giving out from the game of deadly hide and seek in the desert. She kept the glow of her red eyes dimmed, and tried not to flinch at every deafening gunshot.

Maggie's phone buzzed in her pocket. _So_ _it_ _recovers before my wings do?_ Frustrated, she leaned over to fire two shots in the general direction of the machine gun fire. It stopped, and she ducked back behind cover.

Her phone kept buzzing, but the caller ID didn't appear in her HUD. All power was diverted to the rebooting of her wings. Chancing the risk, Maggie pulled her phone out of her pocket. When she saw who was calling, she answered instantly and brought the phone to her ear.

" _Maggie_!" came Tony's voice.

Maggie caught her breath. "Tony, oh my god-"

" _Where are you? Are you safe?_ "

She heard rustling a few yards away and rolled into a kneel, gun raised. "I'm fine, are you - Pepper said that Obie-"

" _I'm fine_." Tony sounded rushed. " _Obie's the leak, Maggie, Obie's the one who's been selling our weapons, and he's made his own armor_ " - Maggie clenched her jaw - " _I've got to go stop him, but-_ "

The soldier behind the boulder a few yards away fired, sending bullets skittering off Maggie's rock. She ducked down, phone to her ear and gun in her other hand.

" _Maggie_ ," Tony's voice broke with panic. " _Where are you_."

"I went to a movie theatre," Maggie lied smoothly as she switched over to thermographic vision and hunted around for the orange shapes of the soldiers. "No one knows I'm here. Tony, don't go after Obie, he's-"

" _Stay where you are, stay safe. I'll send Happy to you-_ "

Maggie spotted one of the soldiers and lifted her gun. "I'm fine, but don't go after Obie alone, Tony-"

There was a _crack_ and Maggie flinched as her phone exploded in her hand. Shards of plastic and metal scraped against the side of her cowl and she fell backwards, yelping.

_They shot my phone_.

Maggie cursed, got her feet under her, and sprang back into the fight. She needed to trust that Tony could handle this. But Obie had all of the Ten Rings _and_ Stark Industries's resources, and she was terrified to know what he would do with them.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

" _I'm afraid the call has disconnected, sir,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. said apologetically.

Tony frowned, but he had to trust that Maggie would be alright. "Start up the armor assembly, J." He glanced over his shoulder at Rhodey, who was still looking at Tony like he was about to keel over. "Just wait until you see _this_."

* * *

Mojave Desert, California

Maggie vaulted over the top of a jagged rock that one of the soldiers had been using for cover, and landed heel-spur first in the meat of his shoulder. The man screamed and dropped, and Maggie went with him. She landed with her elbow on his head, knocking him out cold.

Maggie rolled, spitting out sand, and then lifted her hand and fired a bolt of red-tinted energy at the other soldier who had sprung out from behind his cover. He collapsed back with a thud.

Maggie eyed the wrist-mounted energy blaster with an appreciative eye. She'd built those new, frustrated by the short-range limitation of her electroshock device and inspired by Tony's repulsors. Her blasters weren't nearly as powerful as his repulsors, but they clearly did the job.

She let out a shaky breath, crouching in the dark sand.

Then the building whine of heavy engines starting up caught her attention and she looked over to the runway. There were almost no crates left on the ground, and the plane looked ready to leave. The engine noise grew to a dull roar.

Maggie broke into a run. Her boots slipped and slid in the sand and her wings carved deep gouges behind her. The runway was still several hundred yards away. As she ran, she watched as the figures on the runway loaded the last crate, and then the loading hatch began to close.

There weren't any men left on the runway. _Rowes is going with them_.

Maggie pushed herself harder, her breath burning down her throat and into her lungs. She made it to the packed earth around the runway just as the plane began taxiing down the tarmac.

Maggie tore onto the runway, chasing the plane. The engines deafened her with their roar, rapidly gaining speed, soon outstripping her pace. When she heard the engines kick up into the takeoff sequence she drew both handguns from her belt and fired, squeezing the triggers over and over as she ran until she emptied both clips. Bullets tore through the wing and one even sparked against the engine, but they didn't do enough damage - the plane outstripped her, the nose lifting, and a moment later the wheels lifted off the ground.

Maggie stumbled and fell, skidding to her knees, and her empty guns clattered out of her hands. _No._

The roar of the engines and the flashing lights of the plane began to fade into the dark sky.

Maggie hit a button on the side of her glove and her HUD flashed: _INTELLIGENCE DELIVERED._ She'd just released all the data she had on the Ten Rings and Rowes and the weapons drop to seven different intelligence agencies. She hadn't been planning to do that until much later, but if she couldn't stop this then hopefully someone would be able to intercept the weapons before they got to Afghanistan and caused more damage.

Maggie doubled over on the rough tarmac, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. Failure pressed down on her, a heavy weight on her back, and tears of frustration and exhaustion prickled at her eyes. She knew that in all likelihood, those weapons would never be uncovered. They'd be used by the Ten Rings, or worse, to retake Gulmira and the other areas they once ruled over, tearing apart innocent families.

But then:

_REBOOT COMPLETE_ flashed across her red-tinted vision.

Her previously lifeless, useless wings whirred and rose up behind Maggie, clicking and sliding into place.

Maggie grinned, still on her hands and knees on the tarmac. Then her engines burst to life.

Maggie rocketed into the sky, easily catching up to the plane with its heavier load and bulkier engines. It had only made it a few hundred feet into the air.

Maggie roared up behind the plane, a harpy with black wings and red eyes, lifted one arm, and fired an energy bolt into the left engine. The resulting _bang_ hurt her ears, but she just grinned again when she saw smoke billow from the engine. The plane shivered and tilted left drunkenly, before the pilot fought for control and steadied it.

Maggie tailed behind the plane, knowing exactly what the pilot was thinking: with this model, a damaged engine meant an immediate emergency landing. There was no two ways about it. Maggie _knew_ planes.

Sure enough, a moment later the plane circled back to the runway, nose tilting down. Maggie grinned.

By the time the plane began its landing sequence Maggie was waiting in midair by the runway, wings beating. She watched as the plane came down for a bumpy, skidding landing on the tarmac and rolled to a stop.

She was ready for it when a flood of armed men poured out of the back of the plane. They knew who'd brought the plane down of course, though they might not have seen her. And they would not see her now. Because Maggie had shot out the lights.

Five minutes later, everyone who'd been on the plane was tied up in the sand a few yards away in varying states of consciousness. Maggie had used power cable for restraints, electrocuting anyone who continued to resist. Rowes lay face-down in the sand, cursing up a storm. Turns out you couldn't hold a perfect military posture when you were hog-tied.

Maggie stood over the fifteen captives, her red goggles burning. She was in okay shape, though one of the men had come at her with a serrated knife and slashed through her armored vest. He hadn't cut her skin, but the vest flapped uselessly around her shoulder.

She caught her breath and checked over her handiwork. The desert had gone quiet again, save for the frustrated curses of the captured men, and the crackle of a small brush fire off the runway.

Maggie cleared her throat. "Keep your heads down," she instructed the men.

"Why?" Rowes asked.

Maggie didn't respond. She strode back to the plane, up the empty loading ramp, and opened weapons crates until she found what she was looking for. Once she'd returned to a safe distance she knelt, hoisted the Stark Industries Victor-5 rocket launcher she'd taken to her shoulder, and aimed.

"No!" she heard Rowes shout.

Maggie squinted down the sightlines and armed the weapon with a _thunk_. She breathed out long and slow, ignoring Rowes's shouting, and then pulled the trigger.

The rocket fired with an ear-splitting _crack_ , jerking her shoulder back, and she watched the missile jet across the dark sand and right through the open loading hatch of the plane.

The whole plane went up in an air-sucking _whoosh_ , scorching white in the darkness. Maggie was knocked back a step by the shock wave, wincing at the sudden bright light.

For a moment night turned to day in the desert, everything illuminated by a bright new sun. Maggie's winged shadow stretched long behind her.

Then the fireball on the runway rolled in on itself in a crescendo of orange, red, and gold, burning into thick black smoke. Maggie caught her breath, shivering at the feeling of blazing heat on her front and the cool night on her back. She'd slightly underestimated just how many explosives were packed into the back of that plane.

"What did you do that for?" Rowes shouted as he struggled against his tight bonds.

Maggie cocked her head at the fireball. "Because no one should have them," she replied. She dropped the rocket launcher and stomped down her sand dune, finding each of the vehicles Rowes and his men had arrived in and destroying their engines for good measure. When she was done, she dusted off her hands.

"Someone should be by shortly to pick you all up," she said evenly. Then she fired up her engines and rocketed into the sky.

_I hope Tony's okay._

* * *

It had taken Maggie a few hours to drive out to the desert, but she flew back in minutes. She had no phone, no way of finding out where Tony was and if he was safe, and her mind whirled as she flew. Her damaged jacket tore itself off her halfway there, the flapping fabric unable to cope with her break-neck speed through the sky, leaving her freezing in the night air in just a tank top.

When the sprawling lights of the city came in view she pushed her engines harder, bordering on dangerous g-force. She planned to head for Stark Industries first, to figure out what was going on and maybe pick up a phone, but just as the complex came into view a massive column of blinding blue light shot into the sky.

Maggie's wings faltered and her heart dropped. The pillar of light shot straight up from the SI complex - _the Arc Reactor building_ \- plunging up into the clouds, where lightning crackled.

As abruptly as it had appeared, the light died. Followed by all the city lights for miles around.

Maggie surged forward, heart pounding, but then her heart dropped when another burst of light erupted from the SI complex - this time a burning gold fireball. She'd flown close enough that the resulting shock wave rippled over her, juddering against her wings. _That was definitely the arc reactor building._

Maggie arced down through the sky, heading straight for the rooftop of the Arc Reactor building in the cover of darkness. The fireball faded until just one side of the rooftop was burning, giving just enough light for Maggie to see that the whole roof had been destroyed, a huge hole gaping in the middle and the rest of it all cracked concrete and shattered gantryways.

Then the firelight glinted off something red and gold.

Maggie landed so hard on the rooftop that her knees buckled. She retracted her wings and sprinted for the prone figure lying on the grating a few feet from the open hole in the roof.

"Tony!"

She skidded to his side in the broken glass. Tony lay in his burnt, broken armor, missing the helmet, his eyes closed and his face bloody. The arc reactor flickered weakly, making a faint crackling noise.

"No, no, Tony, you're okay-" Maggie tore off her gloves and cowl and pressed her shaking fingers to Tony's neck, her other hand hovering over the flickering arc reactor. "Tony, come on…" She couldn't feel anything, why couldn't she _feel anything?_

Tears blurred Maggie's vision as she gripped the edge of his chest plate and tugged, trying to get to him so she could start chest compressions, start his heart-

"Maggot?"

Maggie gasped and looked up to Tony's face. They met each other's eyes, sharing a moment of shock.

Then a sob of relief bubbled up Maggie's throat. " _Tony_ , oh my god. You're okay, oh my-"

Tony took in the tears streaming down Maggie's face, and then looked around. "I think I blew up the factory."

She let out a shuddering laugh. "Yeah, I think you did." She eyed him. The arc reactor was still flickering, but the light seemed a little stronger. His face was bruised and bloody, but his eyes were open, and he was breathing. "And almost yourself, too."

She sat back on her heels and tried to calm her thundering heart as Tony sat up with a groan, making the grating beneath him creak ominously.

"Obie?" Maggie asked.

Tony rubbed his chest. "Dead." His eyes flickered to the gaping hole in the roof.

"Good," she said. His eyes darted to her, surprised, but she just looked steadily back at him. _I'm sorry I didn't do it_ , she didn't say.

After a moment, Maggie sighed. "Let's get you out of here. You need a hospital. And a new arc reactor, from the looks of things." She reached out to him, frowning at the busted armor. It'd be hard to move him in that.

"I installed an emergency release," Tony muttered, and made a complicated gesture with the only hand still in a gauntlet. A moment later all the metal plating fell off of him at once, clattering on the concrete below. As he stepped out of the pieces of armor Maggie stuffed her gloves, cowl, and goggles in her pocket, then took Tony's arm and pulled it over her shoulder. She hoped he wouldn't notice the strange metal shape on her back, held there by a harness.

"Hey, how'd you get up here?" Tony asked as she helped him to his feet. "I thought you were at a cinema-"

"This is Stark Industries," she said. "I can go wherever I want."

He chuckled.

Staggering and coughing in the smoke, Tony and Maggie made it down the emergency fire exit and outside. Police cars, ambulances, and fire engines were already flooding onto the road, making the place flash with a dizzying array of lights and sirens.

A tear-stained Pepper half screamed as she spotted Tony and Maggie emerging from the smoking building. She broke away from a knot of police officers and ran over. "Tony, I thought you were _dead_!"

"It's not that easy to kill me," he told Pepper, even as he leaned most of his weight on Maggie. Her bare arms were streaked with soot and blood.

Pepper looked at Maggie, then back up at the roof. "How did you-"

But then paramedics ran over, shouting questions and taking Tony from Maggie, and Maggie used the confusion to trudge over to the quieter side of the road. She sat down on a low wall, shrugging off her wingpack, and closed her eyes in the glow of flashing lights and flickering flames.

* * *

They didn't get much of a chance to sleep. Maggie managed an hour or two in between waiting for Tony to be cleared by the medics, helping with the cleanup at SI, and covering up her own activities.

Thankfully, Tony's arc reactor seemed to recover on its own once it was no longer being used to power the armor. J.A.R.V.I.S. and the robots back at the mansion manufactured a new one through the night, just to be safe.

Maggie didn't leave the SI complex. It swarmed with government agents in dark suits, led by none other than _Phil Coulson_. Maggie had stopped in her tracks when she first spotted him deep in conversation with Pepper, but Pepper seemed to trust the man so she let it slide. She kept her distance, though, while she hid her wingpack and tried to get the desert sand out of her hair and clothes.

Luckily, no one had been badly hurt by the events of the night, but the whole Arc Reactor building had been destroyed, and there was damage to the highway outside SI where apparently Obadiah and Tony had battled. Tony told her all about it as they both sculled coffee at five in the morning.

" _And_ ," he said, jittery from the coffee and the rush of activity through the night, "I don't know the details, but apparently there was another weapons shipment supposed to go out last night, but it got stopped. Rhodey said that the Air Force went out to the desert and picked up a bunch of men. Guess who was with them?"

"Who?" she asked innocently.

" _General Rowes_ ," Tony said with a tone of incredulity. "That upright bastard has apparently been working with Obie for years, siphoning off weapons shipments due for the Army and reselling them to assholes."

"Bastard," Maggie echoed. Tony hadn't mentioned anything more about how Rowes and his men had been captured, so she supposed no one had told him. Which hopefully meant that no one knew the truth.

Maggie also learned that Obadiah had sent a team of men to her apartment, either to kidnap her or kill her she wasn't sure, but Coulson's men had picked them up and taken them into custody. Her regret that she hadn't been able to tear Obadiah apart only grew.

Maggie knew it would take some time to come to terms with the truth about Obie. They'd never been especially close but she had _trusted_ him, in that way one instinctively trusted an uncle (she supposed - Maggie didn't have any aunts or uncles). She almost wished she could look him in the eyes to see the truth, as Tony had.

Thankfully, no one really questioned her story that she'd been at a cinema on the other side of town and then rushed back to SI when she learned about Obadiah. Tony and his battle had taken up all the attention. Nosy reporters were already swarming around SI, and the lobby phones were ringing off the hook. Rumours ran wild.

It was clear that Stark Industries would have to put out some kind of story. Normally that would be Pepper's job, but again Coulson and his team took point, protecting Tony's identity and fabricating a cover story. All Maggie knew was that she was supposed to stick to _her_ story, and that there'd be a press conference first thing in the morning.

Pepper drove back to the mansion and brought both Tony and Maggie new clothes, and the new arc reactor for Tony.

When the first papers of the morning were delivered, all the front pages were focused on the incident at Stark Industries - and beyond that, on the reports of a man in metal armor flying over the streets of Los Angeles.

The papers had given the man a name: _Iron Man._

After her few short hours of sleep, a quick shower and a change of clothes, Maggie headed downstairs to the office adjoining the press room, yawning. The press room was already packed to the brim, and as she passed it Maggie caught a glimpse of Rhodey at the podium.

"There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the Arc Reactor…"

Eyebrows raised, Maggie strode toward the private office and paused in the doorway. _Agent_ Coulson stood inside, instructing Tony on his alibi: a night on his yacht in Avalon, with fifty guests.

Tony looked alright, considering. He wore a freshly pressed shirt, had groomed his hair and beard, and Pepper was busy touching concealer to the various bruises and scrapes on his face. The shirt concealed his arc reactor, but Maggie felt reassured in the knowledge that it glowed steadily and strongly. He frowned down at the blue cards with his pre-prepared speech.

"Just read it, word for word," Coulson said in his calm, even voice.

"There's nothing about Stane here," Tony noted. He glanced back up at Coulson, then spotted Maggie leaning in the doorway, in a suit of her own.

"That's being handled," Coulson said. "He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record."

Maggie's mouth twisted.

Tony frowned. "What about the whole cover story that it's a… bodyguard? He's my… I mean, is that… that's kind of flimsy, don't you think?"

"This isn't my first rodeo, Mr Stark," the agent said with a hint of a smile. Maggie's eyes narrowed. _No, it isn't._ "Just stick to the official statement and soon, this will all be behind you. You've got…" he looked up at the TV screen behind Tony. "Ninety seconds."

Coulson turned to leave, but Pepper called his name and he paused for a moment, smiling as she offered an earnest thanks.

"You'll be hearing from us," Coulson nodded.

Pepper cocked her head. "From the Strategic Homeland…"

"Just call us SHIELD."

Pepper smiled. "Right." She headed back to Tony, and Coulson headed for the doorway - only to spot Maggie leaning there, her arms crossed over her chest. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I see you're back in the United States, Ms Stark," Coulson said pleasantly.

"Observant as ever, Agent Coulson."

"Does this mean you've found a purpose?"

She smiled politely. "You have no idea." _Does he know?_

He smiled. "You'll be hearing from us, too."

Coulson was hard to read, but… no, Maggie didn't think he did know. "Can't wait."

With a nod Coulson strode past her, heading for the exit, and Maggie stepped fully into the office.

Her eyebrows rose up her forehead when she noticed Pepper helping Tony into his suit jacket and straightening his tie. They were bickering, as usual, but there was something to it that hadn't been there before. Maggie kept her distance, suddenly not wanting to eavesdrop, but… Tony was smiling at Pepper, and Pepper's voice had gone gentle, and… Maggie hesitated. _Should I leave?_

But then Pepper stuffed a pocket square into Tony's jacket pocket and took a step back. "Will that be all, Mr Stark?" she asked in a stronger voice.

"Yes, that will be all, Miss Potts." Tony looked up and spotted Maggie standing by the doorway with a raised eyebrow. "You coming?"

"You want me in there?"

"Why not?" he said. "It looks good if you stand next to me and nod at everything I say."

Maggie laughed, then straightened the sleeves of her close-fitted jacket and strode over, holding the door to the press room open for him. "After you, _Iron Man_."

" _Shh_ ," Pepper chided, but she was smiling.

In the press room, at the podium, Rhodey glanced over. "And now, Mr Stark has prepared a statement." Tony strode into the room, followed by Maggie, and the journalists in the room muttered and shifted. There had to be at least thirty of them, with another fifteen camera operators arranged around the sides of the room. Sunlight streamed through the glass windows.

"He will _not_ be taking any questions," Rhodey added. "Thank you."

Tony strode up to the podium and Maggie stood off to the side, like she had the last time. Rhodey cast her a glance from where he stood by Tony's right hand side. They hadn't had much of a chance to speak overnight, but she shot him a smile and he returned it.

When Tony stood in front of the mics, for a few moments he was illuminated in a strobe light of flashing camera bulbs. He steadied himself.

"Uh, it's been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll stick to the cards this time." He drew the blue cards from his back pocket, and a chuckle went through the room. "There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop-"

"I'm sorry, Mr Stark," interrupted a blonde reporter in the front row, and Maggie's brow furrowed into a frown. "But do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared despite the fact that you-"

"I know that it's confusing," Tony interrupted right back, a very fake smile on his face. "It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that I'm a… a superhero."

The instant he said it, Maggie closed her eyes. _Oh no_.

"I never said you were a superhero," the blonde reporter retorted.

"Didn't…?" Tony questioned, and Maggie opened her eyes to see the reporter shake her head, still smiling. _Oh, they know each other_. Maggie almost rolled her eyes. "Well, good," Tony continued. "Because that would be outlandish and uh…" he glanced down at the podium, "fantastic."

He sighed, and his eyes flickered to Maggie, just for a millisecond. It reminded her of how he'd kept glancing at her during the first press conference, as if worried how she would react. She raised her eyebrows at him. _This is your choice to make._

Tony sighed and looked back to his audience. "I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made," he glanced at Maggie again. "Largely, public."

Rhodey leaned over, his jaw tight, and murmured something in Tony's ear. Tony cut off his self-effacing rambling, then lifted his cards. He drew in a long breath, and Maggie felt a thrill go down her spine.

"The truth is…" Tony stared at the cards. Then his eyes lifted, glinting. He set the cards down on the podium.

_Oh, here we go._

"I am Iron Man."

The room exploded into uproar, everyone on their feet and shouting, the cameras flashing. Rhodey turned to stare at Tony, and Tony just stood there with the smallest of smiles on his face.

Maggie smiled, enjoying the moment, and then turned on her heel and headed for the door.

If Tony was going to step out into the sun as Iron Man, then Maggie had work to do in the shadows.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

That evening, as the sun set red and gold over the Atlantic Ocean, Tony and Maggie sat side-by-side on the couch in the mansion, still in their suits. They'd been just staring at the opposite wall for a few minutes now, their drinks forgotten.

"Well," Maggie eventually said. "That happened."

"Yeah," Tony murmured. The day had flown by after his shock announcement, and the world had… well, it had pretty much lost its mind. _Tony Stark is Iron Man_. Maggie didn't think she fully comprehended just how much the world had changed, just yet.

Tony glanced at her. "Want to be my sidekick?"

She eyed him flatly. "Want to be mine?"

He laughed, and that broke their shocked numbness. Maggie chuckled as well, running her hands over her tired face.

Tony broke off in a jaw-cracking yawn. "Want to get pizza?"

"Yeah," Maggie sighed. "And then sleep."

* * *

Maggie woke up that night to a steady beeping. For a moment she just stared up at the dark ceiling, confused. But then she placed the beeping: _the security alert._

She sat bolt upright, suddenly awake. She jumped out of bed and headed for her bedroom door, only to find it locked. She jiggled the handle.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

The AI didn't respond.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., talk to me, what's the alert about?" She darted to her bedroom window and peered out, but saw only the dark ocean and the glimmer of city lights in the distance. She closed her eyes, listening, but heard only the steady alarm.

A moment later the beeping cut out, but Maggie's heart only beat faster.

_I could be imagining it._ But the uneasy twist in her stomach would not let her let it go. Maggie went back to the bedroom door and tried the handle again, putting her shoulder into it. She practically bounced off, cursing. Tony had built this house with security in mind, and the doors were sturdy.

_Right. I am_ not _staying in here._

* * *

Tony paced out into the darkened living area, frowning. He'd been woken from sleep by the house security alarm, and J.A.R.V.I.S. had failed on him. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted the dark silhouette standing by the window.

" _I am Iron Man_ ," came a deep voice. "You think you're the only superhero in the world?" The figure turned. "Mr Stark, you've become part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet."

Tony paced closer, trying to make out the man's features. "How'd you get in here? Who the hell are you?" He glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of Maggie's bedroom.

"Don't worry, your sister's safe in her room," the man said, as if he could read Tony's mind. "I'm here for _you_." He paced out into the illumination of a lamp, and Tony finally made him out: he was a tall black man, bald, wearing a long leather coat. His one visible eye gleamed darkly, and the other was covered by an _eyepatch_.

"I'm Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."

"Ah." _Coulson's lot._

Nick Fury smiled, and it did not help him look any less scary. "I'm here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative."

* * *

It took Maggie a few minutes to break down her door. She eventually got free when she remembered she had a gun under her mattress, and used it to shoot out the hinges. When the door swung open she ran straight for the living area and burst in, just as she heard the front door _click_ and all the lights came on.

Tony stood in the middle of the living area, grim faced. He turned, spotted Maggie standing in her pajamas with a gun, and sighed.

"What is it with you and guns?"

"What happened?" She demanded, eyes darting. She went to the front door and peered out, but the driveway was empty.

Tony's eyes glimmered for a moment. "Nothing. J.A.R.V.I.S. went down, and the house shut down for a minute. Must've been because of all the power fluctuations the last couple of days."

Maggie eyed him sharply. _I don't believe him_. She checked all the exits and entrances, like she'd seen Happy do a million times. "J.A.R.V.I.S., report?"

" _I appear to have lost functionality for a few minutes, Ms Stark. My apologies_."

Gritting her teeth, Maggie turned on her brother. "Tony."

"Maggie, seriously. Forget about it." He seemed relaxed, at least. Unhurt.

Maggie let out a breath. _I'll let it go. For now_. She stuffed her gun into her waistband and set her hands on her hips. "I'm going to need a new door."

* * *

Driving back to the Quinjet parked at a confidential location, Nick Fury lifted his phone to his ear and called his number two.

" _Hill_ ," she answered briskly.

"He said no," Fury told her, then continued before she could respond. "We're going to need to call in Romanoff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's Iron Man! Can't wait to jump into the next chapter and all its goodness with you guys next time :)


	18. Chapter Seventeen

May 4, 2010  
Los Angeles, California

"Thank you for joining me today Ms Stark, I know you have a very busy schedule."

Maggie smiled and shook hands with Rett Booker, the anchor for WHiH Tech News. He had a wide, white smile and a firm handshake. "It's my pleasure, Rett."

"Please, take a seat."

Maggie sat down on one of the dark leather couches in the tastefully appointed interview studio, smoothing down her cream suit. It wasn't her top choice for an outfit, since she'd been terrified all morning that she'd smudge her red lipstick on it somehow, but Pepper had helped her pick out an outfit for each interview she had to do this month, and said that this one was perfect.

She lifted her gaze, eyeing the interview studio. It was done up to look like a studio apartment in LA, but it felt very artificial - the lighting system surrounding the pair of couches was industrial, with a whole camera array facing them, and the plants were fake. The room felt eerily muted and quiet due to the soundproofing in the walls.

Rett took a seat on the other leather couch, still smiling. He leaned over to her as the camera and sound operators adjusted their settings. "I know you've done a dozen of these already, but we're just going to start off with the basic questions to make sure we're all okay with sound and lighting, and then we'll get stuck in."

Maggie smiled and nodded. The SI press team had already pre-approved all of WHiH's questions, so she knew what was coming.

The producer, a man in a silvery grey suit, nodded from behind the main camera.

"Alright," Rett said, turning his smile on Maggie again. He crossed one leg over the other. "Please, tell us a little about who you are and what brings you into the studio today."

"I'm Maggie Stark, and I'm here to talk about the upcoming Stark Expo in New York."

"Fabulous! And I understand it's not long until the Expo kicks off - just three days now, right?"

"That's right, the opening ceremony is on May 7th," she nodded. "I'm afraid all the tickets to the opening ceremony are already sold out," she said with a small smile. "But you can watch it live on the Stark Industries website, and there's plenty of tickets for exhibitions throughout the year."

Rett nodded. "Tell us a little about the history of the Stark Expo. The last one was a whopping thirty six years ago - why bring it back now?"

Maggie clasped her hands in her lap. "Well my brother might not take kindly to you calling it a _whopping_ thirty six years," she smirked, "given that he was around for that one."

Rett laughed, and she pressed on. "The first expo of its kind was in 1941, though it was then called the World Expo. Stark Industries was a young company then, and my - Howard Stark wanted to showcase Stark inventions. A young Steve Rogers - Captain America - attended that expo, though no one knew his name at the time. After the war, Dad reinvented the event as the Stark Expo, in 1954, and brought it back every few years until 1974."

She shifted in her seat. "And late last year, in the company reshuffle, Tony and I were looking back and realized that the Stark Expo was a way to embody the spirit of better living through technology - a way to celebrate innovation, and bring light to the great thinkers of today and tomorrow. Plus, I never got to go to a Stark Expo. I want my turn," she smiled. She reached for a glass of water and took a sip. She'd practice that little spiel.

"You mention the company reshuffle," Rett said, and Maggie practically felt herself swell with pride. "It's been a busy six months for you, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has," she smiled. Rett didn't know the half of it.

The world had changed the day Tony had said _I am Iron Man._ He had gone on a peace-making crusade, and it had _worked_. His main target was the Ten Rings, but he'd brought about a period of relative peace across the world. He hadn't stopped the very existence of war, but he'd stabilised the shaky east-west relations, tracked down and destroyed all the remnants of Stark Industries's lost weapons, and outside of the suit had championed peacemaking efforts and philanthropy across the globe.

If you'd told Maggie last year that her brother would be named the TIME Person of the Year, she'd have laughed. This year, she had the Iron Man TIME cover framed in her living room.

Tony had been busy with missions and the company and the Stark Expo. And Maggie had stayed.

She'd been living at home in her apartment in LA since Tony became Iron Man. She'd been hired on as a consultant at Stark Industries, and had been helping Tony redesign the company to one that manufactured technology that improved lives, rather than tear them apart: they'd redeveloped the medical technology division, delved into flight technology, opened up a line of personal devices including the new Stark Phone, and they were currently working on a sustainable energy drive. The Stark Expo was a way to showcase this new path for the company, as well as hunt out new talent and ideas.

Maggie liked working for SI, but she'd purposefully turned down any offers of an executive position. The term _consultant_ was just shadowy enough that she could sit in on meetings and tinker in the engineering wing, but also have the freedom to step away when she needed it.

Because while Stark Industries and Iron Man were growing in significance, so was the Wyvern. Not in the same way, of course; hers was not a household name. But in the shadow world of secrets and lies, the Wyvern had become a force to be reckoned with.

Maggie didn't _need_ to move around the world any more. She selected her missions based on her own intelligence work, and from offers by intelligence agencies and private individuals the world around. She went after shadows and ghosts, able to find the unfindable.

Iron Man had become an icon - he did the loud work, the work that drew eyes and sent messages. Maggie had learned that she could work in the shadows, sifting through the debris of what Iron Man left behind, picking off escapees and gathering whispers.

Now that the Ten Rings had been all but eliminated, Maggie had turned back to her hunt for the Winter Soldier. Because no matter how cold the trail got, she would always return to it. She'd picked up on leads for a few other crimes she was sure the Soldier had committed, and had even spoken to a few witnesses. She dug deep into the KGB and their offshoots, searching. But whenever she thought she was getting close, the Soldier just _disappeared_.

She'd developed a theory. The Winter Soldier's crimes appeared to stretch back decades, so she had guessed that perhaps _Winter Soldier_ was a title, a mantle to be inherited: one soldier teaching the next, and then the next. _Her_ Soldier might still be around, but even if he wasn't, she would find the current one and track down his master.

"Yes, it must be a busy time," Rett said, drawing her mind back to the leather couches and bright artificial lights of the interview studio. "The Stark Expo, completely reshaping the structure of Stark Industries, a superhero brother. How do you find time for a personal life?"

Maggie smiled. "It's funny, no one ever asks my brother that." She cocked her head. "Though I suppose he does tend to make his personal life _very_ public." She shook her head. "I manage. At the moment, I'm even having to turn down professional commitments I'd very much like to take."

Just last week Jane Foster had emailed, inviting Maggie to visit her research facility in the New Mexico desert. It sounded fascinating: she was researching Einstein Rosen Bridges, and had managed to secure funding for a facility, equipment, and a research assistant. But Maggie had had to turn her down. _Things are really busy with the Expo at the moment_ , she'd written back, _but hopefully if you're still out there in a month or so I can visit. Also let me know if you'd like an exhibition slot at the Expo!_

"And what's it like being Iron Man's sister?" Rett questioned, leaning forward a little in his seat.

 _There it is._ The question she'd been asked probably a thousand times since Tony's press conference. The question everyone from little kids to old folks couldn't help but ask her.

She didn't mind it really - she'd pushed herself into the shadows for a reason, made herself as unremarkable as possible to be able to do her job. To the public Maggie was the second Stark sibling, who lived full time in LA (with the occasional few-day absence), working at Stark Industries with her superhero brother.

And Iron Man was… something that no one had ever seen before. Maggie understood the fascination, the fame. People wanted her reaction. If people's questions made her feel a little bit like the fourth Jonas brother, then that was something she had to deal with.

"Always an adventure," she went with, smiling.

But Rett wasn't satisfied. "Oh come on," he said, his eyes glinting. "You've been by Mr Stark's side ever since he returned from Afghanistan, and it's clear to see you're close. It's pretty publicly known that you helped him build the armor in the first place." He raised an eyebrow at her. "But you've not said much about Iron Man in the press. I know you generally prefer to let your brother speak about Iron Man, but can I get an honest reaction from you?"

Maggie arched an eyebrow. _This wasn't on the list of questions_. She thought about just saying _no_ , but then sighed. "I don't love that my brother puts himself in harm's way," she said evenly. "But I understand why he does it. He has the ability to help people in a way that no one has before, so he does it. I couldn't be prouder of him. And really, if he's going to go out into the world and beat up bad guys, I'm glad he's in that suit." She cocked her head. "Though I think the red and gold is a bit much."

Rett laughed. "And what do you have to say about those in government - and the public - who support military control of the Iron Man armor?"

Maggie didn't let her pleasant smile drop. "I'd ask them to carefully consider what happened the last time Stark Industries gave weapons to the Armed Forces, and compare that to the state of the world now that Iron Man works alone." She met Rett's eyes. _Move it along, buddy_.

He took the hint. "So, you and Tony must be excited for the start of the Expo."

She smiled. "Oh, absolutely. We've been working at it so long that it's hard to believe it's almost about to start."

At least, Maggie _thought_ they were excited. A couple of months ago, something had put a halter on Tony's enthusiasm. She couldn't put a finger on it, since he still went out on missions and worked hard at SI, being his usual charming self. But when the cameras turned off and the door closed on the public, the glint went out of his eyes. He'd become more subdued, holing himself up in his workshop without Maggie. She wondered sometimes if Iron Man weighed heavy on him. It was hard to tell. She thought he loved the armor, loved flying out to help people.

Still, Tony was entitled to his secrets. Heaven knew Maggie had her own.

"So please," Rett smiled, "talk us through the schedule for the Expo." He handed over the glossy brochure that had been on the arm of his chair. But when Maggie reached over to take the program from him, her ribs shrieked in protest and she let out a visible wince.

"Are you alright?" Rett asked, hand outstretched.

"I'm fine," Maggie smiled tightly. "Just didn't do my stretches this morning." She took the brochure and settled back in her seat, subtly touching her hand to her side. That sparked another flare of pain, bringing her back to a dark, smoggy night in Singapore two weeks ago.

Maggie had been surveilling a target: a high-profile international banker, with ties to some shady underworld moneylending. For Maggie, it was a relatively low-stakes mission. Just observation, nothing more.

But then, as she'd been peering through a pair of binoculars at the dark-haired banker as he sipped cognac on his leather couch, the man jerked. The cognac tumbled from his fingers. Maggie had stared at the burst of amber liquid when it hit the floor, then dragged her gaze back up to the banker. He was already dead: two blooms of scarlet blood seeping into his silk shirt.

Maggie had almost expected herself to freeze up. But instead she'd whirled, pulling on her red goggles and scanning the surrounding buildings for activity. When she spotted someone fleeing down a fire exit four blocks away she surged into the air, engines whining and her skin prickling.

She'd chased the shooter for two more blocks. He stuck to rooftops, running faster than Maggie thought possible and keeping just out of sight. He was an oil-slick shadow, slipping through the city like he might just fade into it.

Then she'd zipped around a skyscraper to cut the man off. And she'd seen the arm.

It gleamed in the moonlight like liquid mercury. The man shifted, his own concealed face lifting to look at the Wyvern, and she spotted red star gleaming on his metal shoulder. Maggie had stalled in midair, all thoughts of pursuit and capture flying from her head.

She was five years old, and her parents were dead in a burning car. She was being dragged over a road, tears clogging her vision and a vice-like grip around her arm.

 _You are my mission_.

Then a _crack_ split the frozen night air and Maggie was only saved by the irregular movement of her beating wings, the Soldier's bullet whistling inches away from her head. She dove, flailing, and as the Soldier lifted his rifle again she became the prey.

She flailed, trying to rally her thoughts and her wings while not getting shot. He was _right there_ , dodging across the dark rooftop: dressed head to toe in black, with a mask covering the lower half of his face and dark goggles over his eyes. If it weren't for the gleam of the metal arm he'd hardly be visible. _I wasn't even looking for him_ , Maggie thought numbly. _I'm not ready_.

But then her thoughts crystallized: _you are my mission._ She swerved neatly around a volley of bullets and turned burning red eyes on the Winter Soldier. _Zimniy Soldat_ , the one she'd been hunting for for twenty years. He knelt on the rooftop, real flesh and bone, shooting at her. _My mission_.

Her wings arced and she held her body still, ready to dive into an attack.

The Soldier must have sensed her focus shift, because in the next second he dropped his rifle and turned to sprint away. Maggie plunged after him, wind shrieking in her ears, but it was a feint - as the Soldier jumped from one rooftop to the next he tossed something behind him. Maggie saw it but didn't try to turn until too late. The explosive device went off with a blast that scorched the night and seemed to suck all the air from Maggie's lungs. It knocked her sideways, head over heels until she landed with a _crash_ on her side on a metal fire escape on the side of a building. She felt the _pop_ of two of her ribs breaking.

She'd still struggled back into the air a few moments later, gasping at the pain, but it was too late. The Winter Soldier had escaped.

Maggie dragged herself back from the bitter memory to find herself talking robotically through the Expo program - she knew it like the back of her hand by now. Her ribs still ached, but worse was the pain that licked at her heart and up her throat, like being burned alive from the inside. The pain of _failure._

She knew she was lucky to have survived a second encounter with the Winter Soldier - probably because this time, he hadn't been sent to kill her. They had surprised each other. But she knew she would have to be very, _very_ lucky to find the Soldier again. Already he had become a ghost again, leaving no trace on the world for her to track him by.

Swallowing down the hot feeling, Maggie tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice as she talked through the exhibitions she had helped design: the medical science month, with a whole weekend for prosthetics, the flight technology exhibitions, and the monthly evenings for Youth Science with contributions by children.

She tried not to think about the Winter Soldier again for the rest of the interview. But it seemed he always lurked at the back of her mind these days: not the image of him gripping her arm after the car crash, but this time of him standing on a rooftop, lifting his shadowed face to look up at her, the red star burning on his arm like a promise.

* * *

Maggie drove herself back home from the interview, troubled and weary. A florist delivery van was waiting for her on her street. The delivery man grinned at her and handed over an enormous bouquet of red roses wrapped in gold tissue paper. The garish combination of colours could mean only one thing, and sure enough when Maggie checked the card attached, it read: _Is this a bit much?_

 _Of course he's already seen the interview footage_ , Maggie sighed. She let herself into her apartment and pulled out her phone to text Tony:

_Ha, ha._

He replied: _coming over for dinner? Pepper's ordering Thai, and probably going to make me work_.

Maggie kicked off her heeled shoes. _Got plans, sorry. See you at work on Monday_.

She changed into more casual clothes, checked the time, then grabbed her go bag and headed for the door again. She had a mission to get to.

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York City

"Agent Barton, walk with me."

Clint Barton looked up, spotted Agent Phil Coulson walking down an adjoining corridor, then nodded and followed. Coulson was in his standard suit, and Barton wore the dark tactical suit he favored. "Sir," he acknowledged.

Coulson shot him a polite smile. "Normally I'd schedule this, but things are getting busy and I have to head to the Triskelion. I thought we'd do your weekly mission briefing now."

"Right," Barton nodded. "I don't have my notes on me-"

"That's alright, just let me know your progress."

"Well to be completely honest, sir, there's not been a lot of progress," Barton said wryly. Their footsteps seemed loud on the well-polished floors of the base. "So far I'm still just going through all the available intel, but it's difficult to uncover any actionable leads."

This had been how most of his briefings had gone since Clint was put on the Wyvern case a couple of months ago. In March the Wyvern, the shadowy, tech-enhanced bounty hunter, had brought down a whole human trafficking ring in Serbia on their own. SHIELD had been aware of the Wyvern for some time now, but this action had put them on SHIELD's _Identify and Contact_ list, and Clint had been assigned to the case. Once he did the _Identify and Contact_ part, it would be up to SHIELD to decide if the Wyvern was someone they wanted to hire, or someone they wanted to stop. The last one of these he'd been assigned to had been Natasha, and he'd gone against SHIELD's directive. Coulson hoped this mission would be a bit simpler.

Though it was not shaping up that way.

"Has the Wyvern been active since your last briefing?" Coulson asked.

"Not that I can tell. And I still can't isolate a base location for them. The intelligence they send out gets sent to whichever agency is in the best position to act on it, and they're taking missions all over the world - there's no pattern to it that I can see. I don't know how they found out about SHIELD either." SHIELD didn't put out bounties, but a few months ago the Wyvern had begun sending them intelligence from time to time.

Clint ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I think I do have a few leads on potential targets of the Wyvern's, though. So I'm going to follow that up, see if anything sticks."

"Well, keep at it," Coulson sighed. "Whoever it is, they can't stay hidden forever."

Clint nodded. "Are you putting Nat back in the field yet?"

"She's got her mission," Coulson said with a smile. "Fury's running point on that one and they're still keeping their distance for now, but I think he's putting her into play soon."

* * *

May 5, 2009  
Gibraltar

In the thick forest that clung to the side of the Rock of Gibraltar, Maggie pulled on her gear for her mission.

A few weeks ago, she'd had a run-in with an international crime syndicate that she later learned made its money through synthetic drugs and money laundering. What was worse, she had recently learned that they tested their drugs in poor communities in regions where no one would protect them. She hadn't figured out who the leader was yet, but she'd learned of a factory of theirs in Gibraltar. So here she was.

Maggie pulled on her sturdy armored flight suit: she'd developed a lightweight kevlar weave for the suit, a dark slate grey with burgundy panels. The suit would protect against knives and glancing bullets, and stretched from her neck to her ankles. With her flight boots, clawed gloves and the cowl and goggles, it felt like a second skin.

The suit fit tightly - she'd been training every chance she got, in martial arts, agility, marksmanship and flying, and she'd built up some muscle.

Maggie reached her hand around to her back, checking that the two holes cut in the back of her flight suit were clear. Her fingers slipped past the fabric and found metal.

In January, Maggie had undergone private surgery. She supposed that some people might call what she'd done a monstrous, horrific thing. It had certainly been an extreme form of body modification. But to her, it had felt more like… becoming the person she was supposed to be.

As far as Tony (and her doctors) knew, the surgery was to readjust the spinal plates that had shifted slightly as she got older. Having the machinery deactivated by Rowes had unsettled Maggie, and she wanted to update the technology.

Maggie also had her surgeons install some additional machinery; she already had metal wires transferring sensation and communication up and down her body, but now she had two small metal ports at the center of her back, on either side of her spine. _So it's easier to update the technology in future_ , she had told the doctors, and, trusting her genius, they had gone ahead with it.

The surgery hadn't been that invasive, it had only taken her a few weeks to recover. Now she was certain that the machinery snaking up and down her spine could not be knocked out by any form of electronic deactivator, and she had two external reminders that she would always be part machine.

The ports were about the size of a golfball in diameter, the skin around them cleanly healed so there was a neat transition from flesh to metal. When deactivated the ports were smooth metal, with fine arced grooves in the surface. When activated the grooves opened up, sliding back to reveal a knuckle-deep mechanical mooring.

Sure that the moorings were clear, Maggie crouched down, picked up her wingpack, and slung the harness over her back. It instantly deployed. Maggie closed her eyes when she felt the moorings in her back activate, whirring open. In the same moment the metal lump on her back began to move, and two mechanical ports slid into the moorings on her back. She became a part of the wingpack, and it became a part of her. Several metal harnesses stretched around Maggie's chest and up to her shoulders, completely stabilising the connection and centring to her body. Like being embraced by the wings.

When the wings unfurled, arcing wide to either side of her, Magge let out a breath. She still wasn't used to the rush of _feeling_.

Aside from the metal moorings, Maggie had had to change surprisingly little about her internal wiring. For twenty years, Maggie had had machines reading her biological communications and translating those into sensation and movement. By forging a connection with her wings, Maggie had reversed that process: translating mechanical readings and communications into the biological. And it had _worked._

As Maggie stood on the forest floor a rush of feeling flooded in from her wings: she felt where they connected with her back, a warm point of wires and nerve endings, thrumming with information and strength. She felt the rise and fall of her wings with each breath, felt the faint brush of wind along each carbon fiber surface.

Maggie had blurred the line between metal and flesh. The wings directly read the signals from her body - she no longer needed to fly with hand controls, since the wings were a part of her. And now, _she_ could read the wings. She could _feel_ them.

Tony wore his metal as an armor. Maggie's was inside her bones, inside her body. When the wings unfurled from her back, it felt as if metal lived in her mind and her heart. Before, she had been able to feel wind pressure on the wings, like a sailor could feel his ship's sails fill and loosen. But now, if someone were to stroke a finger along her wing, Maggie would shiver as if they were touching bare flesh.

Maggie had not had to explain herself to anyone, so the wings just… were. As if she'd grown a secret set of extra limbs. She knew why she'd done it though. Because she knew the wings were a part of her, as surely as if she'd been missing them since birth. They were as much a part of her as her prosthetic leg. And she had been unable to pass up the opportunity of making them _truly_ hers.

And her flying had improved by _miles_. Maggie flew like she had been born to it.

Checking her gear once more, Maggie fired up her engines with a thought, and with a single beat of her wings shot into the sky. She spiralled up into darkness, leaving the forest behind, a creature of metal and flesh and air. The world dropped away beneath her. She felt the wind pressing against her taut carbon fiber membranes and whistling in her ears, felt the humidity in the air gathering as moisture along the metal tips of her wings, her muscles stretching and burning as she cut through the sky.

Maggie wondered if she ought to feel fear. But she didn't feel fear when flying - nervousness, sometimes, like a buzzing pressure at the bottom of her stomach, but never fear. She'd never thought to be afraid of it before, and now didn't seem like the time to start.

When the drug manufacturing factory came into view, Maggie's eyes narrowed behind her glowing red goggles.

_Ready or not..._

* * *

Three hours later, Maggie piloted her charter jet up out of Seville and set a course back for the States. Then she pulled out her Wyvern computer and sent off her intelligence to the Gibraltar local PD and Interpol. She ended her intelligence packages these days not with her name, but with an image:

Two black wings with a twist between them, a suggestion of a Wyvern's body.

Yawning, Maggie dabbed at her split lip and gently smoothed cream onto the burn mark under her jaw - there'd been an explosion, and a molten scrap of shrapnel had caught her in the narrow gap between her cowl and her suit. A problem to be remedied.

Once her computer _ping_ ed to let her know the intelligence had been delivered, Maggie closed the computer, then leaned back in the pilot's seat and watched the horizon.

As the hours ticked by Maggie felt the Wyvern slowly pull away, rolling back into herself, curling up her metal claws and closing her wings. Ready to fight another day.

* * *

May 6, 2009  
New York City

"Thanks for inviting me out for lunch, Pepper," Maggie said as she took her seat at the restaurant table opposite Pepper. "I know you've been busy with the Expo too, it's nice of you to organize this."

"Oh, well," Pepper said, smiling thinly. Her eyes flicked over Maggie's face. "It's been a long time coming."

They were both in town for the start of the Expo tomorrow, and in between the frantic last minute preparations Pepper had told Maggie she'd booked a reservation for lunch, just the two of them. It wasn't often they spent time alone together, and Maggie didn't know why. She enjoyed Pepper's company.

They ordered food and drinks, and then discussed Expo preparations for the next few minutes. They were both in their work clothes, Pepper in a fine charcoal pencil dress, and Maggie in a blue suit with the jacket sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

When their food came, Pepper took a sip from her drink. "So how are things going with you, Maggie? Outside of work?"

Maggie cocked her head. "Just fine, thanks. Though work takes up more of my time than it probably should."

Pepper bit her lip. "I know. Have you…" she ducked her head to take a bite of her ravioli. "How's the dating going?"

Her lips quirked. "The dating?"

The other woman went a little pink in the cheeks, but then made a gesture that was clearly intended to be casual. "Well your brother has clearly adjusted to being back, as we've seen in the tabloids, but I was wondering about you. Are you seeing anyone?"

Maggie raised her eyebrows. "I… no. Not for more than a night, anyway." _Where is this going_?

Pepper cleared her throat. "I wanted to talk to you, Maggie, about… well, about relationships."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I know you've not had a serious relationship - well, not one that you've told me about anyway" - for a moment Pepper's gaze was sharp, searching - "and I was thinking the other day about a talk my mother gave me when I was a teenager, and I…"

"What's this about, Pepper?" Maggie asked, frowning. She'd never seen her like this before.

Pepper drew a breath, then looked Maggie in the eye. "You are a genius. Indisputably, and I know that. But I just hope that you know that… in a relationship, even one which may seem loving, it is possible for someone who says they love you to hurt you. Emotionally, and physically. It happens far more often than you'd think, that kind of… abuse. And it is _not_ acceptable." She reached across the table and took Maggie's hand where it had been resting by her fork. "You deserve so much love, Maggie, and respect, and safety. If ever anyone isn't giving you those things-"

"Wait, wait," Maggie said. She felt like her brain was wrinkling. "What?" But then Pepper's eyes flicked to her split lip, and the burn on her jaw, and something inside her seemed to shiver.

_Oh, Pepper._

Maggie wondered how long she'd had this suspicion. Pepper had noticed her small injuries over the months, but Maggie hadn't thought she'd draw _this_ conclusion. She should have suspected yesterday, when she got back from the mission and Pepper asked about the burn mark with a too-sharp note in her voice. Maggie had told her that she burnt herself while straightening her hair, but Pepper was better at spotting lies than she'd thought.

Pepper forged on. "Maggie, you can tell me _anything_ , I hope you know that-"

"It's not like that," Maggie rushed out. She squeezed Pepper's hand. "I promise, it's not what you think. Thank you, really, for caring. It does mean a lot. But you don't need to worry about me. I've got this." She smiled reassuringly.

Pepper didn't look convinced.

So Maggie went with a dirty shot to pull Pepper's mind off the things she couldn't explain. "When you started talking about relationships, I thought you were about to tell me you were dating Tony."

Pepper went violently pink and dropped her hand. "I - no, _god_ no Maggie, I didn't mean to give that impression-"

"It's okay," Maggie laughed. She tapped the side of her nose. "Your secret is safe with me."

Pepper's eyes narrowed. _That might've been a step too far._ "There's no secret."

They both returned to their food for a few moments, each contemplating what the other had said.

Pepper eventually broke the silence. "I mean it though, Maggie. No matter what it is, you can tell me anything." Her blue eyes were earnest and concerned.

Maggie smiled, and reached across the table again to take her hand. "I know."

* * *

May 7, 2010  
Flushing Meadows, New York City

When Iron Man rocketed through the roof of the Stark Expo stadium and landed with a _clang_ on stage, the enormous crowd erupted into cheers. Fireworks blasted from the stadium roof and across the stage as a line of dancers danced to _Shoot to Thrill_.

They'd designed it like a concert on purpose - neither Tony nor Maggie had wanted the Expo to be some dry science show. This was a science _festival_.

Iron Man raised his arms and the assembly robots around him whirred to life, beginning to dismantle the armor. The crowd roared again, waving their hands in the air. Lights flashed and the music pounded through the stadium, the place alive with excitement.

Backstage, Maggie did the _Shoot to Thrill_ dance in time with the dancers, spinning and kicking her feet. Pepper, standing nearby with a headset on, laughed at her. Maggie had seen the dancers rehearse the choreography about fifty times, and it gave her something to do while backstage. Plus it had made Tony's eyes roll when he'd seen her doing it yesterday.

The noise of the crowd ramped up another notch, and Maggie looked over her shoulder as she danced to see that Tony had emerged fully from the Iron Man armor and had given the audience a bow.

A few moments later the song ended and the dancers strode backstage, a couple of them hi-fiving Maggie on the way past. Breathless, Maggie leaned in the wings and watched Tony as he turned, charming and sleek in his new suit, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.

"You missed me?" he called, his voice amplified by speakers throughout the stadium.

"Blow something up!" someone called.

"Blow something up? I already did that," Tony laughed. He sobered, then raised a hand. He began his very-much-not-humble speech, and Maggie shook her head as she listened, smiling. The crowd ate it up, laughing at his jokes and cheering whenever he paused for breath. Maggie heard a woman scream _I love you, Tony!_

"Please, it's not about me," Tony said with a wry smile. "It's not about you. It's not even about us. It's about… legacy." Maggie drew in a breath. "It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. And that's why for the next year, and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources, share their collective vision, to leave behind a brighter future."

"It's not about us," Tony repeated, his face solemn and determined. _There's the man behind the mask_ , Maggie thought, smiling. "Therefore, what I'm saying, if I'm saying _anything_ , is welcome back to the Stark Expo!"

The crowd burst into cheers again.

"And now, making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it's all about - please welcome my father, Howard."

Tony bowed once more and strode off stage left. The screen behind him changed, revealing film footage of a man in a sharp blue suit, his features strong and handsome.

" _Everything is achievable through technology,_ " said Howard Stark.

Maggie looked up at her father for a few moments, letting his voice and his words wash over her. She'd seen the footage before but it felt different tonight, with thousands of eyes watching him. The crowd had gone silent, the light of the screen illuminating their faces as they listened to Howard Stark with a solemn respect. Maggie had never known him to look so young. The mustache she remembered, but in her memories it was white. She felt, for a moment, very small.

Frowning, Maggie turned and wove through the backstage passages, working her way behind the massive screen and over to stage left.

It didn't take her long to find Tony. He stood just offstage, sipping from a Stark Expo waterbottle as he frowned down at a small silver device in his hand.

"What's that?" she asked as she slipped up behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, slipping the device into his pocket. "Gameboy."

Maggie arched an eyebrow, but didn't pry.

Tony glanced at her flushed face. "Please tell me you didn't do the dance again."

"What?" she grinned, even as she fixed her hair and smoothed down her suit. "It's catchy. You're lucky I didn't do it onstage." Her eyes gleamed. "Maybe I still will."

"I don't think the internet's ready for that." Tony glanced over his shoulder as Howard talked about the _City of the Future._ "Dad's still talking, you're on in two."

Maggie looked up at their father's face, looming large. "This was a good idea, Tony. But you don't have to parade him out just because you think it's what people expect."

"Stark Industries was _his_ baby, he started the Stark Expo. It'd be weird if we didn't give him a nod."

Maggie cocked her head, then reached out to hug Tony. He patted her back. "You're his baby too, Tony. We both are. He did great things, but… we get to make our own legacy now."

They pulled apart and Tony eyed her, his expression soft and almost… sad?

But the film was already coming to its close. Maggie smiled. "I've got somewhere to be."

"Break a leg," he said wryly.

She walked off, heading to her mark, but spared a moment to call over her shoulder: "I've only got one left!"

* * *

A minute later, the Howard on screen smiled and said: "The Stark Expo. Welcome."

The crowd cheered again. And soon after the screen faded to black again, the glowing panel on stage began to move again. People whooped and pointed as the platform split apart, revealing a figure rising up from beneath.

Maggie smiled wide in the flashing lights as she emerged from beneath the stage, rising up on a glowing platform, and didn't wince when the mounting roar of the crowd slammed into her. Not as loud a roar as for Iron Man, but Tony was a tough act to follow.

Besides, Maggie had thought this entrance was fitting: Tony came hurtling in from above like a meteor, and she crept up from the shadows underground.

When the panel came level with the stage with a hiss, Maggie stepped off and turned, waving to the crowd. She wore a sharp burgundy suit and sharp smile, as well as a pair of black heels which clicked with every step. "Welcome to the Stark Expo!" she called, the microphone pinned to her jacket picking up her voice and amplifying it a hundredfold.

Tony was the showman of the family, but Maggie had not missed out on the Stark genes, and she was not afraid. She soaked in the cheers and whistles, grinning and waving, not letting the massive stage swallow her whole but owning it. She didn't appear in public all that much, and she knew people were curious.

When the cheers had died down enough, she stopped pacing. "Now I know I'm not _quite_ as good as making an entrance as my brother," she said with a wink, and there was a round of laughter. "But before we get back to the dancing and the fireworks, I'm here to give you a little taster of what you've got to look forward to this year."

She snapped her fingers and a dozen other sections of the stage opened up behind her, panels rising up to reveal a dozen carefully-selected inventions, gleaming and glowing and whirring and drawing awed gasps from the crowd.

Maggie gestured behind her, then turned back to the audience. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

* * *

After the opening ceremony Maggie did a few press interviews, her eyes starting to hurt from the flashing lights. She'd just stepped away from an interview with a CNN reporter when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She lifted it to her ear.

"You've got Maggie."

"Hey Mags."

"Tony?" She could hear a car engine in the background of his call. "Did you and Happy leave already?"

"Yeah, I just got served a subpoena to appear at a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing in the morning."

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. _Just perfect._ "Well… we knew it was coming, didn't we? It'll be fine-"

"The subpoena's just for me, thankfully, not you."

Maggie sighed. "I'll catch the next flight up to D.C., I should be there anyway. Are you at the jet?"

"Nah, Happy and I are going to drive."

She rolled her eyes. "See you in D.C., I guess."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting all the love for Maggie's wing moorings, you guys are too sweet ❤
> 
> Just a reminder that there is an In The Shadow Of Your Wings [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmyEFm4fuH4rlSCu7CQmlQqDkrNpUrqWi), also here's the [Spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0APgAV4TfCHa4zSqu2ckPf?si=HQZe5YabQaqY3sI_5SOMqA). I've decided Maggie's anthem is going to be 'Victorious' by Wolfmother, and I've also listened to 'My Name is Thunder' approximately a zillion times.

May 8, 2010  
Washington D.C.

Maggie and Pepper took the jet to D.C., beating Tony and Happy. They'd spent the rest of the night in preparations with the _very_ well paid Stark Industries lawyers.

Now, Maggie stood in a small huddle with Tony, Pepper, and the SI legal consultants in the lobby of the senate office building, all of them sipping coffee from paper cups. They'd just come out on a break after the first hour and a half of the hearing, and it was going pretty much as expected - there'd been questions about the Iron Man suit's capabilities, and about Tony's own capabilities and motivations.

Maggie sipped her coffee and smoothed down her jacket - she wore a more sober suit today.

Tony leaned against the wall nursing his coffee. He caught Maggie's eye and raised his eyebrows. "So how's everything going with the Expo? No disasters overnight?"

"No, it's going great," she reassured him. "The food vendors had a contract issue but I know Pepper's sorting it out." The woman in question glanced out of the corner of her eye at them, still deep in discussion with one of the lawyers. "The opening ceremony was a big success, and the first exhibitions are ready to open tomorrow."

Tony nodded. "Good. Great."

"Mr Stark," said one of the lawyers, trying to draw his boss's attention back to the matter at hand. "It's very important that when the senators ask about the chain of command that you reassert that you have made many connections throughout the Armed Forces, and…" he continued giving carefully-worded legal instructions, and Tony nodded along as he sipped his coffee, but Maggie could not imagine him repeating those words in the courtroom. And the lawyer knew it too, if his despairing expression was anything to go by.

Truthfully, Maggie didn't know how they were going to get out of this one. The US Government moved slow, but now that they'd actually called Tony in for a hearing she wondered how Tony could continue on in his role as privatized vigilante superhero.

She'd done her best as the Wyvern to protect Iron Man, keeping an eye out for potential threats and for other attempts at suit-making. But as Maggie Stark, she wasn't sure how she could help.

When they were called back into the hearing, Maggie re-took her seat in the row with the SI legal consultants, just behind Tony. And he was in fine form now: Senator Stern had to bang the gavel to get his attention, and when he turned around with a: "Yes, dear?" the courtroom dissolved into laughter.

"Can I have your attention?" Stern asked, annoyed.

"Absolutely."

They set off again, Tony cracking jokes and deflecting. Maggie tapped her fingers against her knee, watching them spar back and forth with a blank expression. Senator Stern was trying to classify Iron Man as a weapon, and they argued over semantics for a while.

The hearing chamber was a grand place, with high ceilings and marble walls, and the eight senators on the Armed Services Committee sat along a long mahogany desk, raised above the rest of the room. Cameras flashed, and at Maggie counted at least five film cameras recording from multiple angles.

Tony cocked his head when Stern asked him how _he_ would define Iron Man. "It's a… hm, it's a high tech prosthesis."

Maggie couldn't help but crack a smile at that. The snapping of camera shutters increased, and she struggled to control her expression. If anything, this hearing was more about _image_ than legality, and she needed to be the sober, responsible sibling here.

But then Stern came out with: "My priority is to get the Iron Man weapon turned over to the people of the United States of America," and she could not have smiled if she tried.

"Well you can forget it," Tony said easily. His voice was low and calm, utterly confident in the face of Stern's smiling authoritarianism. "I am Iron Man. The suit and I are _one_. To turn over the Iron Man suit would be to turn over myself, which is tantamount to indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on what state you're in." Giggles erupted through the chamber. Tony shrugged one shoulder. "Can't have it."

Maggie ran a hand over her jaw, peering at the senators.

Stern scowled. "Look, I'm no expert-"

"In prostitution, of course not, you're a senator, come on!" Tony crowed, turning to actually _wave_ at the crowd behind him, as if he was on stage. He met Pepper's eyes and she shook her head at him, but then he glanced at Maggie and saw her hiding her smile behind her hand. He grinned and turned back.

"I'm no expert in weapons," Stern persisted, "but we have someone here who _is_ an expert on weapons. I'd now like to call Justin Hammer, our current primary weapons contractor."

When Maggie spotted Justin Hammer approaching the desk, with his charcoal suit and glasses and his coiffed hair, she wondered if her eyes could fall out of her head if she rolled them too hard. Hammer Industries had taken over the defense contract after Stark Industries shut down their weapons manufacturing division last year. Maggie had known Justin for years, since he'd been running in the weapons manufacturing circles for a decade and she'd had the unfortunate pleasure of working with him on occasion. As a woman in the engineering field she had to put up with a lot of dismissiveness and general assholery from certain men, but no one had quite the annoying touch that Justin Hammer did.

As Hammer took his seat at the desk, Tony leaned into the mic. "Let the record reflect that I observed Mr Hammer entering the chamber, and I am wondering if and when any _actual_ expert will also be in attendance."

Maggie coughed behind her hand to hide her laugh. That was the other thing about Hammer - he had the money and the talk of your typical Silicon Valley CEO, but absolutely no natural instinct for engineering.

Hammer took the insult in his stride. He laughed, then leaned in to his own mic. "Absolutely. I'm no expert. I defer to you, Anthony. You're the wonder boy."

Tony was busy staring at Hammer in disbelief, so Maggie looked over her shoulder and met Pepper's eyes. _Anthony?_ Pepper just shook her head. _Keep it cool._

Hammer looked up. "Senator, if I may." He stood up, taking his microphone with him as he turned to face the seated crowd. "I may well not be an expert. But you know who was _the_ expert?" Hammer turned to face Tony, smiling. "Your dad. Howard Stark."

Hammer started waxing poetic about Howard, calling him the _father to us all_ , and a _lion_ , and after a moment Tony glanced over his shoulder at Maggie. They shared a moment of eye contact, utterly serious this time. Everyone in the courtroom had sobered.

"We all know why we're here," Hammer continued, knowing he had the room's full attention. Tony turned back, slouched in his chair and irritation written in his posture. Maggie crossed one leg over the other slowly, jaw clenched.

"In the last six months, Anthony Stark, with the help of his lovely sister" - he flashed a smile at Maggie and her lip curled. A few people glanced over, as if realizing for the first time that she was there - "has created a sword. With untold possibilities."

Hammer frowned. "And yet he insists it's a shield. He asks us to trust him as we cower behind it." Maggie saw Tony bring his clasped hands to cover his mouth. "I wish I were comforted Anthony, I really do. I'd love to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house. But you know, this ain't Canada."

Maggie's head dropped back, and she took comfort in the blankness of the ceiling for a moment.

"You know, we live in a world of grave threats," Hammer said, his face creased in false concern. "Threats that Mr Stark will not always be able to foresee."

Maggie glanced back at him, and for a moment Hammer met her gaze. She gave him a sharp, sweet smile. _That's what I'm here for_.

Hammer turned back to the Senators. "Thank you. God bless Iron Man, God bless America."

Lukewarm applause filled the chamber, and Hammer took his seat again. Maggie reached up to rub her temples, hoping to ward off the beginnings of a headache.

"That is well said, Mr Hammer," Stern smiled. "The committee would now like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes to the chamber."

"Rhodey?" Tony blurted, and he and Maggie swung around at the same time as Rhodey, in his Air Force blues, strode into the chamber. Tony went up to greet him and they shook hands, murmuring for a moment. Maggie stayed in her seat, but frowned at Rhodey as he walked by her. He just shook his head at her, then took a seat at the hearing table.

Rhodey had compiled a report on Iron Man for the Department of Defense. Maggie knew this, but when Stern got him to read a specific anti-Iron Man paragraph she sighed and sank down a little in her seat. Rhodey, to his credit, tried to point out the flaws in this, but Stern steamrolled him.

And then there was _imagery_.

Maggie straightened in her seat as the display screens came to life, showing satellite imagery of what looked like a base of some kind.

Rhodey, grudgingly, began to speak. "Intelligence suggests that the devices seen in these photos are in fact attempts at making manned copies of Mr Stark's suit."

Maggie squinted. She couldn't make out much from the screen, but either way - she'd been working hard behind the scenes trying to put an end to shit like this, and she didn't understand why the US Government was using this relatively new intelligence as a way to discredit Tony. Well, she knew _why_. She just thought it was stupid.

She cocked her head as images cycled through the screens, suddenly very focused.

"This has been corroborated by our allies and local intelligence on the ground," Rhodey continued. "Indicating that these suits are quite possibly, at this moment, operational."

Maggie frowned. She'd heard nothing to suggest that. For a brief, insane second she opened her mouth to say so - but then remembered who and where she was. Her mouth clicked shut and she sat back, gritting her teeth.

But then Tony leaned over, doing something with his Stark phone. "Hold on one second, buddy. Let me see something here." He tapped the screen twice, and then the courtroom display screens flashed with a black box that read: _WELCOME, MR STARK._ Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, boy I'm good," Tony murmured. "I commandeered your screens. I need 'em. Time for a little transparency."

He hijacked the hearing, cycling through video clips of other countries' attempts at making mechanised suits - all with disastrous results. Maggie stared at the screens, then slowly looked back at Tony. _Huh_. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. Turns out Tony had been doing a little snooping of his own.

The senators and Hammer were scrambling, trying to stop the footage, but Tony had completely taken over their screens.

When the screen switched to show a clip with the _Hammer Industries_ logo in the corner, and Justin Hammer himself shouting instructions at a man in a metal suit, Maggie scowled. She hadn't known about _that_ attempt. _Maybe I should be looking closer to home_. That had been her problem with Obie - she'd been too focused on the dangers overseas that she'd missed the monster lurking beneath her feet.

"Justin you're on TV, focus up," Tony called. Senators leaned in to murmur in each other's ears, frowning. The entire room was abuzz.

The metal suit on screen suddenly twisted 180 degrees, and a muffled scream emitted from the speakers. Maggie winced.

" _Oh, shit_!" The Hammer on screen exclaimed. " _Oh, shit_!"

Finally, the Hammer in the courtroom disconnected the power cable to the screen and stormed back to the desk, his eyes downcast.

"Wow," Tony drawled. "Yeah, I'd say most countries, five, ten years away. Hammer Industries? Twenty." Rhodey smirked.

"I'd like to point out that that test pilot survived," Hammer said once he'd reached the mic. He looked ruffled.

Stern was on his feet. "I think we're done, is the point that he's making, I-I don't think there's any reason-"

"The point is," Tony cut in, his chin on his hand. "You're welcome, I guess."

"For what?" Stern glared.

"Because I'm your nuclear deterrent," Tony said, as if it was obvious. Maggie settled back in her chair, mind churning. "It's working. We're safe. America is secure. You want my property? You _can't have it_. But I did you a big favor!" Tony stood up and turned to face the crowd.

_Oh, here we go_ , Maggie sighed, though she couldn't help her smile.

Tony cocked his head. "I've successfully privatized world peace." He lifted both hands in the _peace_ V _,_ and like the end of a magic show everyone in the room shot to their feet to give him a standing ovation.

Maggie stayed seated, unable to help her smile. Applause rippled through the room.

"What more do you want?" Tony called. "For now?" He began striding down the main aisle. "I tried to play ball with these ass clowns!" He gestured back at the Senators, and Stern said into the mic:

"Fuck you, Mr Stark. Fuck you, buddy."

Laughing, Tony returned to the desk to pick up his sunglasses as Stern adjourned the session. On his way past Maggie he lifted his hand to her, eyebrows raised, and unable to stop herself Maggie gave him a hi-five. Rhodey, still seated, raised an eyebrow at her and she could only shrug. _He's my big brother._

Tony slid on his sunglasses and then made his way back out of the courtroom like he'd just won an award, shaking hands and flaunting for the camera. The hearing devolved into cheers and applause.

In the chaos as everyone craned their necks to watch him leave, Maggie slipped through the crowd toward the deactivated display screen and stole the data stick that Hammer had been using for his presentation. _Might not be much, but it'll be a start._

She slipped out a side entrance, and no one saw her leave.

* * *

Russia

Alone in his late father's basement, Ivan Vanko put the finishing touches on his masterpiece: his own weapon, powered by a functional miniaturised arc reactor.

He powered up the electrified whips, and the crackling blue light reflected in his eyes.

* * *

May 9, 2010

On the jet back to New York, Tony locked himself in the bathroom for a moment to check his blood toxicity. He flinched at the sharp jab of the finger-prick, then winced at the readout on the device: _21%_.

_Yikes_. He wiped his finger on a paper towel. He'd do an analysis on the progression of the Palladium poisoning when he got back to Malibu, but he didn't really want to think about it for now.

He stashed the blood scanner back in his pocket, then stepped back into the main fuselage of the jet. Pepper sat at one of the desk seats, tapping away at her Blackberry. Happy was asleep near the front of the plane. Maggie had stayed behind in D.C., saying she had something to work on (unbeknownst to Tony, Maggie was planning to stake out Justin Hammer while he was in the city).

Tony dropped down opposite Pepper. The sun slanted into the jet from the west, turning her hair orange-gold. "What, are you going to give me the silent treatment forever?"

Pepper sighed and held up a hand. "I am not ready to talk about… whatever that was in that hearing." She chewed the inside of her cheek, then set down her phone and leaned in. "Tony, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else."

He leaned in as well, matching her posture. "Whats up, buttercup?"

A brief scowl crossed her face before the worried expression returned. "I want to talk about Maggie."

His eyebrow rose. "What about her?"

"She… keeps getting hurt. I noticed it a few months ago. Whenever she leaves on one of her _holidays_ , sometimes she comes back injured. Like… this last time, she came back with a split lip, and some kind of burn on her jaw. And she broke her rib last month! And other times, I think she's hurt but she won't admit it. Haven't you noticed?"

Tony blinked. "I guess. I just thought… I don't know, that she was getting hurt. She's an active person with a prosthetic leg, it happens." But even as he said it, he didn't quite believe it. He _had_ noticed. He was just so used to Maggie keeping things close to the chest that he hadn't bothered to push too hard. His brow furrowed. How long had this been going on?

Pepper's lips pressed together. "It's not just that. I know that Maggie's always been her own person, but recently… I don't know, she's been secretive. More than usual." She sighed. "I don't really know what I'm saying. But I'm concerned."

Tony leaned back in his seat, rubbing his jaw. He'd been so caught up in his own secrets…

Pepper's fingers twisted. "I thought she might be in a relationship with someone," she said cautiously. "Who was hurting her."

He glanced up. "Maggie would _never-_ "

"You'd be surprised," Pepper cut him off sharply, but then continued. "But I asked her, and I'm less sure about that now. She seemed surprised when I mentioned it. But she also didn't explain what was really going on. And I know she's an adult, but I thought I'd bring it up to you. So… I don't know." She shook her head.

"No, thank you," Tony said. He thought back. He and Maggie had mended their relationship after he came back from Afghanistan, but he realized that he'd gotten used to her secrecy. He knew why she had quit Stark Industries the first time, but there was still so much she didn't share with him. Maggie kept secrets, and Maggie disappeared every now and then. That's just the way she was. And somewhere along the line, Tony had stopped wondering _why_.

And if he… if he didn't have long left, he wanted to make sure his sister would be okay without him.

He swallowed down a lump. "I'll look into it."

* * *

May 10, 2010

The next day, on the balcony of his hotel room, Tony called Maggie. She picked up almost instantaneously, her face appearing on the screen of his Stark phone. She looked to be outside somewhere - he could see tree branches above her head.

"What is _that_ ," she said by way of greeting, making a face at the chlorophyll concoction he was finishing off.

"Smoothie."

"Since when do you drink smoothies?"

"Since… recently," he said. He supposed she would have noticed eventually, what with his necessary intake increasing every day along with the Palladium in his blood.

Maggie cocked her head, eyeing him as best as she could through a screen. "Hey," she said in a softer voice. "Are you doing okay?"

"What a coincidence, that's what I was going to ask you."

"I'm not the one who essentially flipped off the US Government and is now… drinking smoothies?" Maggie frowned. "And you've been weird the past few weeks."

His heart skipped. "Weird?"

"Yes, weird." She squinted. "And not your normal inventing weird, either. Is everything going okay with the Mark V design?"

The emergency suit, designed to look like a suitcase, was still in development. Maggie had helped to throw around some ideas, but Tony had mostly worked on it alone. It was hard to hide the symptoms of Palladium poisoning from Maggie if she was around all the time.

"Never been better, but this isn't about me," he deflected. "I just… I know we've both been busy with the Expo and SI, but… how are you? Like, in your life." He grimaced at the phrasing, then drained the rest of the chlorophyll smoothie.

"In my life?" she questioned.

"I just mean… everything's okay, right? You're not in trouble?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to Pepper."

Tony sighed. "Yes, but I mean… it's not just that. You've been taking a lot of absences from SI-"

"I'm a consultant, that's within my remit-"

"But where are you going? When you do go?"

Maggie shrugged. "Lots of different places. I like to travel, Tony."

He let out a breath. _Maybe that's all it is._ "Maybe you should bring me along on one of those trips." The idea made his heart ache for a moment, and he frowned. Slowly being poisoned to death was making him sentimental.

She eyed him cautiously, and he could see her thoughts whirring behind her eyes. Then she said: "Sure."

Tony nodded slowly. Then, without really thinking about it, the question he'd been planning to ask Maggie for weeks now spilled out. "Do you want to be CEO?"

She blinked, utterly dumbstruck for a moment. "Do I… what?"

"Do you want to be CEO," he repeated. "Of Stark Industries."

For a few moments they just stared at each other through their phones. Maggie's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

Finally, she squinted. "What's in that smoothie?"

He laughed. "I'm serious, Maggot. I'm offering you the job. Want it?"

"You _don't_ want it?" she questioned. "Why?"

"Doesn't matter. Want to be CEO?"

"I…" he saw her finally, seriously, consider the question, and he could see that for her, the answer was as easy as breathing. "No."

Tony took in the guilt and confusion that warred across her face. "I know."

Her expression turned into a glare. "Why would you ask if you already know?"

"Just to be sure," he said. "And it's okay. I know… even with the changes the company's made, I know it's not what you want. And that is _okay_. I only want for you to be happy, Maggie." His voice went warm.

Maggie took a few breaths, still processing the question. Then her eyes focused on him. "What's wrong, Tony?"

He held her gaze for a moment before he blinked. "Nothing. Just… thinking about the future."

She sighed. "Well don't think too hard. You've got plenty of time to head hunt, if that's what you want. Don't make any rash decisions."

"Right," he said, and alarmingly his voice wavered. He coughed, then rushed out: "Love you, kid," before he hung up.

* * *

Maggie stared at her phone for a moment. _What on earth?_

But she had work to do. She returned to the software on her phone which ran the listening device she'd planted in the meeting room where Justin Hammer was currently discussing upcoming projects with the Secretary of Defense. This meeting, like all his others, was startlingly boring. And it didn't appear he had any hope of making a functional Iron Man suit anytime in the near future, though it was clear he wished to.

Maggie sighed and resigned herself to suffering another half hour of listening to Justin Hammer talk.

* * *

May 12, 2010

Finally back in his workshop at home, Tony wasted no time in greeting J.A.R.V.I.S. and the robots (and the row of Iron Man suits displayed along the wall). But it wasn't all good times.

"How many ounces a day of this gobbledegook am I supposed to drink?" he asked J.A.R.V.I.S. as he measured out yet another chlorophyll smoothie.

" _We are up to 80 ounces a day to counteract the symptoms, sir_."

_Yikes_ , Tony thought as he drained his glass. And it only did a half-ass job of counteracting the symptoms anyway. The dark, angular lines radiating out from around the arc reactor in his chest were a permanent feature now.

"Let's check Palladium levels," he said, spiking his thumb once more on the blood scanner. A moment later the red number flashed before his eyes: _24%_.

_Yikes._

" _Blood toxicity, 24%_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. announced. " _It appears that the continued use of the Iron Man suit is accelerating your condition_." J.A.R.V.I.S. brought up a simulation scan of Tony's chest, showing how the Palladium radiated out from the Arc Reactor like a tree taking root.

" _Another core has been depleted_."

Wincing, Tony lifted his shirt and slid out the Arc Reactor. The core slid out, smoking and blackened. "God, they're running out quick."

" _I have run simulations on every known element, and none can serve as a viable replacement for the Palladium core_."

Tony replaced the core with a new, sleek metal one and then slid the reactor back into his chest.

" _You are running out of both time and options_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. continued, his voice calm but firm. Tony was glad he'd been able to give the AI some form of personality. It had helped that day in February, when Tony had realized that the Palladium was poisoning him. When Tony had realized he was dying. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been good to have around, then.

Tony felt the arc reactor click back into the housing in his chest, bringing both life and certain death.

" _Unfortunately, the device that's keeping you alive is also killing you_." He eyed the strange, almost bluish lines around the arc reactor. " _Miss Potts is approaching._ "

Tony dropped his shirt.

" _I recommend that you inform her_ and _Ms-_ "

"Mute," Tony called. J.A.R.V.I.S. shut off, and in the next moment Pepper strode into the workshop, her eyes steely.

"Is this a joke?" she called.

He reached for his smoothie glass and tipped it back.

"What are you thinking?"

"What?" he asked, when the smoothie was finished and he had no further excuse to avoid conversation.

" _What_ are you thinking?" she repeated, storming closer.

"Hey, I'm thinking I'm busy, and you're… angry. About something."

They flowed back into their usual rhythm. Tony stood up and started moving around the workshop, messing with his holodesigns (which now popped up all over the workshop, thanks to his redesign last year) and snarking back at Pepper as she followed him, clipboard in hand, apparently angry that he'd donated the entire modern art collection. To be fair, that had been spontaneous of him, but he'd been looking at one of the art pieces on the wall of his house two weeks ago and thought about the house, and what would happen to it after… _after._ And then he'd just… made a few calls. Someone else may as well enjoy the art, and it was a good cause.

Tony walked through the manufacturing section of the workshop, putting Dum-E back on task, and the conversation turned to the Expo, and then Stark Industries. Pepper's mind could fit all of it - the Expo, and Stark Industries and its multitude of contracts and concerns, and even Tony as he picked up an Iron Man painting and went to put it up on the wall.

Standing on his drinks counter as he hung up the painting, Tony heard Maggie's voice: _Don't make any rash decisions._

Well, he'd already made this decision. He jumped down, facing Pepper. "You do it."

"I do what?"

"Excellent idea," he said, eyes widening as if he'd just had a lightbulb moment. "I just figured this out. _You_ run the company."

Pepper blinked. "Yeah, I'm _trying_ to run the company, but-"

"- well stop trying to do it and do it-"

"-you will not give me the information I need in order to-"

"I need you to do it!" he raised his voice.

"I am _trying_ to do it!" she shouted back.

"Pepper you're not listening to me!"

"No you're not listening to me-"

"I'm trying to make you CEO!"

Silence fell.

"Why won't you let me?" Tony asked as Pepper stared at him. Her anger had completely drained away.

She leaned in, staring at his mouth. "Have you been drinking?"

He almost smiled. _Maggie implied the same thing_. "Uh, chlorophyll." Pepper still looked dumbstruck, so he stepped toward her and took her hands. "I hereby irrevocably appoint you chairman and CEO of Stark Industries, effective immediately."

She continued to stare.

Tony glanced away, then nodded to himself. "Yeah, done deal. Okay?" he patted Pepper's hands then stepped away. Dum-E had rolled into the room, a tray with a bottle of champagne and two glasses on it, as Tony had instructed earlier.

"I've actually given this a fair amount of thought, believe it or not," he called to the silent, staring Pepper. "Doing a bit of headhunting, so to speak. Trying to figure out who a worthy successor would be." He picked up the champagne bottle and struggled with the cork for a moment. "And then I realized… it's you." The cork popped out and he began pouring. "It's always been you." He glanced over his shoulder at Pepper. Her look of outright shock had faded into something like bewilderment.

"Does Maggie know about this?" she breathed.

Tony arched an eyebrow at her. "You really think Maggie wants to be CEO?"

Pepper frowned. "I honestly have no idea what Maggie wants."

"Well, she doesn't," he said. "And I'm sure when I tell her the good news, she'll be happy about it. She trusts you."

Pepper said down on the couch behind her, not taking her eyes off him.

"I thought there'd be a legal issue, but actually I'm capable of appointing my successor." He brought over the two glasses, and Pepper looked up at him. "My successor being you."

He held out the glass, but instead of taking it Pepper's face finally broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. She looked down.

"Congratulations?" he offered. He shook the glass at her. "Take it, just take it."

"I don't know what to think," she finally said, her voice shaky.

"Don't think, drink."

She eyed him, smiling for real now, and raised her glass to his.

* * *

Maggie arrived back in LA that afternoon, since Hammer had left D.C. and she had no other business on the east coast. She drove herself to the mansion, and found Tony and Pepper waiting for her in the living room. This wasn't unusual, since Pepper was around the mansion sometimes more than Maggie these days. But the bright smile on Pepper's face seemed new.

"What happened," Maggie said the moment she saw Tony and Pepper standing together, smiling at her.

Tony's eyes gleamed. "Maggie, allow me to introduce you to your new boss." he cast a sweeping gesture at Pepper, who rolled her eyes at him.

"My new…" Maggie's eyes flicked to Pepper, and then she gasped. "You _didn't_."

Pepper's smile flickered, but Tony just nodded. "I did."

Maggie gaped for a moment, processing, before the gape turned into a brilliant grin. "Oh, Pepper, congratulations!" Pepper's smile returned full force. "You'll be incredible!" She shook her head. "No offence Tony, but she's going to do a much better job than you."

"I know," Tony said, his smile small and soft. "That's why I picked her."

Maggie darted across the living room and scooped Pepper into a hug, whirling her around once before setting her down. Pepper laughed at her enthusiasm.

Maggie looked Pepper up and down. _Thank_ _god_ _I don't have to do it._

Pepper must have seen what Maggie was thinking, because she laughed again. "I hope you know, Maggie, that I care a lot about the company, and I'll take good care of it. And you'll always have any job you want at SI." She turned to Tony. "You too." She glanced back at Maggie. "You know he said he wants to be jobless for a while?"

"Tony, are you having a midlife crisis?" Maggie asked, only half-serious. "Next thing you know you'll…" she thought of all the mid-life-crisis stereotypes, but Tony had already done most of them by the time he turned twenty five.

"No, I think I'm finally setting things right," Tony said, still smiling. He clapped Maggie on the shoulder. "Since I'm granting wishes today, is there anything you want?"

Still overwhelmed by the announcement, she missed the darkness behind Tony's eyes.

She laughed. "I wish for three more wishes."

Pepper let out a breath and collected herself. "Well, now that we've told Maggie, you and I," she nodded at Tony, "should head to Stark Industries. We've got feathers to ruffle."

Tony nodded. "I'll call Happy."

* * *

The next week was a flurry of activity. As predicted, the announcement of Pepper taking over the CEO and chairman role ruffled feathers - but more so in the press than in SI, because anyone who was worth anything in the company knew that Pepper was perfect for the role. Still it was a busy time with board meetings, press meetings, and the entire world trying to adjust to the fact that Tony Stark, superhero and long-time CEO, had given the job to his PA.

Once more everyone turned to Maggie for her reaction, sure that she would be furious at being ousted somehow. But Maggie remained fervent in her support for Pepper, and a few pictures of the two of them shaking hands and going out for lunches together finally settled the rumors.

Maggie, for her part, was doing a little corporate espionage. Hammer's data stick had been password protected, but that took Maggie all of three seconds to crack, and then she moved on to creeping her way into the Hammer Industries intranet. She wasn't interested in corporate or domestic espionage, but she didn't like that Hammer Industries and the US Government were trying to steal the Iron Man tech.

She also realized that Tony had made progress that she hadn't, so one evening on a visit to the mansion, as she sat alone in her childhood bedroom, Maggie asked: "J.A.R.V.I.S., can you show me the data that Tony gathered on Hammer Industries for the hearing?"

It was a long shot, but…

" _I don't see why not, Ms Stark,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. responded, and she smiled. Tony hadn't forbidden her from looking at the intelligence. Either he hadn't thought to do so, or he _wanted_ her to have access to it. " _May I ask why you wish to view this information_?"

Maggie cracked her knuckles and opened her Wyvern computer. "Just curious, I guess."

With Tony's intelligence, and her own work, Maggie was able to make a start.

A week after the hearing, and a day after Hammer's contract with the military got put on indefinite suspension, Maggie broke into Hammer Industries. She'd been able to figure out that Hammer really didn't have much of a hope of replicating the Iron Man suit, but he _did_ have some stolen designs, and a repulsor part which Maggie suspected had been stolen from the Mark II armor after Tony's battle with Stane in Los Angeles.

Maggie strode right into Hammer Industries in the middle of the day, with a cloned security pass and a hat that obscured her face from the cameras. She didn't stay long; she made her way into the R&D wing, stole the repulsor part from a storage cabinet, then logged on to their system from an engineer's computer and completely wiped any data and designs based on the repulsor part. _That should set them back some time._

Enough time for her to build a case against Hammer, anyway. She'd already found a few hints of illegal practices on his data stick, and she was in the midst of building a portfolio to give to the police.

She technically wasn't stealing, she told herself as she strode out of the building again. She was just stealing back whatever had been stolen. Now they were free to attempt to replicate Tony's suit using their own creativity. _Which isn't likely to happen any time soon._

When Maggie returned to LA she returned to her Wyvern work, alongside helping with the SI transition. She was concerned about Tony, who seemed to be holing himself up in the mansion more and more, but he wouldn't admit that anything was wrong.

* * *

Russia

In a snowy alleyway, Ivan Vanko looked down at his forged passport, and the single admission ticket to the Monaco Grand Prix. A smile crossed his face.

* * *

Once the ball got rolling on Pepper's takeover, there was really surprisingly little for Tony to do. He had to sit in on the occasional board meeting or conference call, but as ever, Pepper was a powerhouse of efficiency. It meant he had more time alone to work on the Mark V armor in his workshop in peace.

He also had time to pry into Maggie's life.

She could say _I like to travel_ all she wanted, but what Pepper had said had concerned Tony. So with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s help, he began to look into Maggie - and once he started looking, he kept seeing things that concerned him. He found not one but _two_ extra bank accounts that he didn't know about, and those were just the ones he could find. J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him that Maggie had a computer built into what looked like a metal briefcase that she took everywhere, but which she had never allowed J.A.R.V.I.S. access to. She regularly chartered private jets, but the jet had been recorded at airfields where, upon digging, it had never actually been. Almost as if someone was forging flight plans.

Tony couldn't deny that it looked fishy. It would look to an outsider as if Maggie had involved herself in some shady business practices, but Tony didn't think she would do that. He couldn't guess what she was up to. _Definitely keeping secrets, though._ She'd been hiding things deliberately from J.A.R.V.I.S., and even Tony was finding it hard to look into her activities.

The injuries concerned him. He had J.A.R.V.I.S. catalogue all the CCTV footage from SI and the mansion where Maggie had an injury, and the results were alarming. In the past six months she'd had five visible facial injuries, ranging from a bruise to a scape, and two incidences where she was visibly limping. And she hid them all well. _Maybe she's being blackmailed?_ he wondered as he sifted through the footage.

Tony was distracted by his own life falling apart, but he kept looking into Maggie's secrets. He wanted her to be okay when he was gone.

One evening, once he and Happy finished up sparring, Tony cocked his head at the bodyguard.

"Hey, Happy, you're looking for new responsibilities, right?"

Happy's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? Is this you firing me?"

"No, but your paranoia continues to astound," Tony laughed. He cleared his throat. "No, I… I was wondering if you'd like to spend some time keeping an eye on Maggie."

"On Maggie?" he queried. "Is she in danger?"

"No, no, well - I don't know, really." Tony pulled off his boxing gloves. "It's only if you're up for it, but I'd appreciate it if you checked in on her. See where she is, if she's with anyone, make sure she's safe."

Happy eyed him shrewdly. "And I take it Maggie doesn't know you're asking me this."

He sighed. "No. She… I think she might need help, Happy, but she's not ready to ask for it. I don't want to ask you to do this, but…"

"I understand," Happy said, his face solemn. "I'll keep an eye on her boss, when I can."

"Thanks, Happy," he said with a sigh.

* * *

May 18, 2010  
Philadelphia

Phil Coulson walked into a diner in downtown Philadelphia, relieved as the cool airconditioning washed over him. He glanced around, then made a beeline for a booth at the far end of the diner.

The booth in question was occupied by a man in his mid fifties, with salt and pepper hair, glasses, and a shrewd look in his eyes. He smiled as he finished ordering, and when the waitress disappeared into the kitchen Phil slid into the opposite seat in the booth.

The man glanced up and a smile lifted his mouth. "Phil Coulson, as I live and breathe. I was about to shoot you."

"I thought you were just getting slow," Phil smiled, and shook the man's hand when he offered it. "Good to see you, David."

David Marlow was ex-CIA, but had worked a few cases in conjunction with SHIELD back in the day. He worked as a consultant nowadays, but only part time so he could spend time with his newborn grandkid.

"Are you ordering?" David asked, offering the laminated menu. "A coffee?"

"No thanks, I'm trying to cut down on caffeine." Phil folded his hands in front of him on the table and met David's eyes. "What do you know about the Wyvern?"

Agent Barton had done well gathering information on the Wyvern. Two days ago, he had linked several of the Wyvern's cases to information that could only have come from none other than David Marlow, and Coulson had offered to do the interview.

David dropped the menu. "Ah, shit, Phil, why've you got to go after all the good ones? Can't you leave it alone?"

Phil cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"The Wyvern isn't one of your rogue assassins," David sighed, leaning back in his seat. At least he wasn't denying that he'd been in contact with the Wyvern. Phil had been ready to confront him with Barton's painstaking evidence. "The Wyvern just… gets shit done. I don't see why you or SHIELD would want to take that kind of skill out of circulation. Half the time the Wyvern sorts out the criminals you'd end up having to deal with."

Phil's lips quirked. "We've been getting that impression. Perhaps we want to recruit him." He saw a quirk in the other man's brow and he smiled. "Ah. _Her_." Barton had suspected as much, and this confirmed it.

David held up a finger. "Now I don't know that! I've never met the Wyvern!"

"But you've been in the game long enough to tell," Phil surmised. "How does she contact you?"

"Encrypted transmissions mostly, real deep web stuff," David waved a hand. "Except for the time she figured out my phone number."

Phil's eyebrows rose. "What else have you picked up about her?"

David sighed. "Phil, I don't know if the Wyvern is the recruiting sort. At first I thought she was working alone, and I even tried to hire her, but… these days I'm more inclined to think it's some kind of team."

"Why's that?'

"The Wyvern works all over the globe. And they don't seem to leave any trace. Resources, tech, travel, combat… not many people working alone could cover all that."

"I can think of a few in SHIELD who could."

"So maybe she's one of yours then." David waved a hand. "Working rogue."

"Could be." The waitress returned with David's food, quirking an eyebrow at Phil, and they waited until she was out of earshot to continue. "So what else have you picked up?"

David sighed as he picked at his fries. "The Wyvern's smarter than me, I knew that straight away. Driven. Resourceful. Was focused on unsolved assassinations and old Soviet stuff early on, so maybe you're looking at a displaced Russian." He frowned. "But… Phil, if you must go after her, don't go in guns blazing. Because the Wyvern… I have a very strong suspicion that she's _kind_. And that's rare, in our line of work."

Phil cocked an eyebrow. "Kind."

"Yeah," David nodded as he started to cut into his steak. "Like you. Bleeding heart type, you know? She takes most cases for free. I'm still trying to figure out what makes her accept a case, but the real denominating factor is if it's in the common good."

"Interesting." Phil eyed David as he began eating. "Could you contact her on my behalf?"

He smiled. "I think you're great, Phil, but I won't do that for you. Like I said, I don't think she's the type for SHIELD. But I won't warn her about you either, mind, since I don't give help for free these days." He shot Phil a significant look.

Phil nodded and got to his feet. "We'll transfer you your consultancy fee right away."

"Much obliged, Phil." David tipped his head. "And don't go thinking the Wyvern will come easy, if you do chase her. She's got claws, y'know."

Phil straightened his tie. "So I've heard."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

May 21, 2010

Maggie found herself once more alone in the cockpit of a jet, soaring over the Atlantic ocean. She'd uncovered a lead in her investigation into the drugrunning crime syndicate whose factory she'd destroyed in Gibraltar. In a chance piece of digital communication, she was pretty sure she'd found the syndicate leader's location: a villa in Tbilisi, Georgia. So she'd packed up her gear and left, sending her apologies to Pepper, who was due to officially become CEO today.

Tony still concerned her, as did the international pressure on Iron Man, but she knew that Tony would be alright by himself for a few days. Everyone back home was used to her leaving by now. Though Happy had offered to come with her, and tried to insist when she reassured him she'd be okay. He'd never done that before.

Maggie set the jet's autopilot, then stretched her arms. _Time for the Wyvern to come out for the hunt._

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Later that day, Tony watched Natalie Rushman from Legal slam Happy to the ground with a _thud_.

He and Pepper both jerked in surprise.

"Oh my _god_!" Pepper exclaimed as the redhead held Happy in a chokehold, her knee clamped to his throat. Pepper and Tony both jumped to their feet. " _Happy_ ," Pepper breathed.

"That's what I'm talking about," Tony called. _I definitely need this woman as my assistant._ Pepper could accuse him of ogling all she liked, and she wouldn't be _completely_ wrong, but there was something about this Rushman lady. She knew what she was doing.

Rushman released Happy and they both got to their feet.

"I just slipped," Happy managed to choke out.

"You did?" Tony asked. He dinged the bell on the corner of the boxing ring. "Looks like a TKO to me."

Happy shot Tony a red-faced scowl as Rushman climbed out of the ring.

She flicked her hair back, straightened her clothes and faced Tony. "I need your impression." She didn't even look _winded._

"You… have a quiet reserve," he responded, peering into her green eyes. "I don't know, you have an old soul-"

"I meant your fingerprint," Rushman cut him off with a half smile, and magically produced the binder with the transfer paperwork.

"Right." Tony took the inkpad and binder and started pressing his fingerprint into the boxes beside his name.

Pepper finished checking on Happy and strode over, her heels clicking on the floor. "So, how are we doing?" she smiled.

"Great, just… wrapping up. Hey." Tony met her eyes as he peeled his thumb away from the paper. "You're the boss."

For a moment he and Pepper just smiled at each other.

Rushman snapped the binder closed. "Will that be all, Mr Stark?"

"No."

" _Yes_ ," Pepper smiled, "that will be all, Ms Rushman. Thank you very much."

Rushman dipped her head and strode out of the gym. Tony and Pepper watched her go.

Tony turned to Pepper. "I want one."

"No." Her stern look turned into a sharp smile. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Did you hear back from Maggie?"

He blinked. "What?"

She sighed. "Remember I asked you to check if she was coming to the Grand Prix - never mind." She began to walk away.

"No, wait, I remember!" he called, and she glanced back at him. He pulled out his phone with his inky fingers and gestured it at her. "I'll do it now. Promise."

She shook her head at him - fondly, at least - and then strode out of the gym.

Tony set about texting Maggie before it left his mind again:

_Hey. Pepper wants your RSVP to the Grand Prix. In or out?_ He sent the message, then added: _Also I straightened out the issues with the Mark V delivery system. Works a treat, you should see it._

She responded ten minutes later: _I'll try to make the Grand Prix, but I can't promise anything, sorry. Can't wait to see the new suit!_

Tony switched off his phone with a sigh. He couldn't say he was surprised. But it would have been nice to spend the day with Maggie in Monaco. _Leave her with a nice memory_. His face twisted into a grimace and he shook himself.

_I'm getting maudlin._

* * *

23 May 2010  
Tbilisi, Georgia

Tbilisi glowed at night.

Well, Maggie supposed it was technically morning, given that the time on her HUD read _0400._ The sky was pitch black as she soared over the city, which glowed like an orange beacon in the darkness. Its highways were orange streaks cutting through the twinkling suburbs, and the cathedral and historic fortress were illuminated in gold.

Maggie had had some time to admire the beautiful city during the day, when she'd begun her investigation into the leader of the crime syndicate, Zurab Mamedov. She'd finally tracked down the specific villa where she suspected he was currently living, caught a couple hours of sleep, and was now off to do some reconnaissance. She planned to watch the villa throughout the morning and gather intelligence to send to Interpol.

She angled down through the warm night air as she grew close to the suburb by the river Mtkvari, at the foot of the main mountain that overlooked the city. This area was beautiful, the houses with their rustic red rooves built on the hillside, each one a little lower than the other on the way down to the river.

Maggie cut her engines and glided down until she alighted on a red shingle rooftop uphill from her target's villa. Her boots landed without a sound and she lowered into a crouch, pulling her wings into her back and listening carefully for any signs she'd been spotted.

She heard only the distant hum of early morning traffic, and the breeze whisking over the rooftops. Her clawed gloves made a soft _tink-tink_ sound as she steadied her palms on the roof.

Maggie switched over to thermal vision on her goggles and peered down at the target's villa, scanning it. She frowned, then reached up to adjust her settings.

_There's no one in there._ The villa was large, with a balcony overlooking the city and a renovated open-plan interior. Maggie was certain that this was Mamedov's house - she had intel that he was in town, and there'd been digital activity within the house to confirm his presence. But her thermal readout showed her only blues and greys. So unless Mamedov was dead or a vampire…

Behind her, a male voice said: "Hey."

Maggie whirled, shooting to her feet and baring her claws.

A man stood at the other end of her rooftop. He wore a black tactical suit, and had something long and angular strapped to his back. He had short, sandy brown hair, a handsome face, and calculating grey eyes that didn't betray any fear or confusion at the sight of the red-eyed Wyvern in front of him, her dark wings spread wide.

Maggie's heart pounded.

The man cocked his head. "So, can I talk to you?"

Maggie assessed the evenness in his voice and the surety in his stance and the gun in the holster at his hip. _Agent._

The agent must have seen her tense, because he held out a hand and said: "Listen, I just want to talk-"

Maggie didn't bother sticking around to listen. She turned and sprinted for the edge of the rooftop, her engines kicking into gear as she simultaneously scanned for other signatures nearby. Her mind whirled. _They must be good, normally I can spot a trap a mile away._ She'd gotten cautious after Rowes.

She glanced over her shoulder just as the man behind her pulled the thing off his back and aimed it at her. He fired and she jerked to the side, eyes widening as the projectile he'd loosed at her sailed past and disappeared into the darkness with an ominous crackle. _A bow and arrow? What on earth…?_

Maggie planted her foot on the edge of the roof and leaped off, her wings snapping wide and her engines roaring, ready to boost her up to the clouds-

She felt the arrow connect with her right wing as surely as if it had struck her in the back, followed by the crackle of stinging electricity and then shocking numbness. Her wings had shorted out. She tumbled out of the air and hit the next rooftop a few feet down, the breath knocked out of her chest. Thankfully the inbuilt resistors had prevented her from feeling pain when the arrow hit her wing, but the shock of the impact and the sudden loss of sensation jarred her.

_Damn it, not again_. Maggie fought to her feet, cursing. Her wings had automatically retracted into the wingpack this time, and she knew they would reboot soon, but whatever this agent had used was powerful. Powerful enough to short out all the anti-disabling tech she'd installed earlier in the year.

The man jumped down to the rooftop after her, landing silently. "Don't you know it's rude to leave mid conversation? Look, I know you're here for Mamedov but you don't need to worry, we've taken him into custody-"

Maggie snapped her wrist up and fired a scarlet energy bolt at him.

He dodged out of the way, then glanced up at her. "Okay then." He dodged again as she fired off three more bolts, then reached for his bow.

Recognizing that he had the long range advantage, Maggie dashed across the rooftop toward the agent and swung at him. He ducked her fist and then swept his bow at her like a staff, catching her by surprise. The bow glanced off her shoulder, setting her stumbling.

"My name is Agent Barton," the man said as he sank into a defensive stance. "I don't want to hurt you-"

Maggie struck again, firing a one-two bolt from each of her energy blasters and then driving her fist into Agent Barton's stomach; he twisted aside and her knuckles glanced harmlessly off the side of his tactical suit. He stepped back to get some distance and Maggie turned to run again, her eyes on the next rooftop. If she could lose herself in the maze of the city and buy some time for her wings to reboot-

Another arrow sailed over her shoulder, followed by two more that slammed into the roof tile just in front of her, as if he'd shot between her legs. She skidded sideways, aiming for the street below the house, but another arrow sailed just in front of her nose, making her yelp. She turned back to the agent, who had the audacity to _smile_ at her as he stood with his bow aimed straight at her chest. The softly glowing streetlights turned his silhouette hazy.

"I'm just after a few minutes of your time, Wyvern."

_Okay then._

Maggie sprang forward, firing another energy bolt at Barton's bow so he had to jerk aside. She closed the distance and leaped, hitting him full-force in the chest and tackling him to the shingles. Barton twisted as he fell, trying to get the advantage, but Maggie was already rolling away - slicing her claws through his bowstring as she went.

Barton took the damage in his stride, kicking out and catching Maggie's legs as she rose, knocking her back to her knees. "Who's funding you?" he asked almost casually as he rose to his feet. "I know you're not doing it alone. Tech like that" - he nodded at her wingpack even as she jumped back to her feet - "costs money."

_Christ, does he ever stop talking?_ Maggie tried to back away now that he didn't have his long range advantage, but Barton seemed to be able to read her mind. He hounded her, cutting her off when she tried to run and bringing the fight in close, trying to sweep her legs from under her. Maggie dodged and weaved, striking back when she could. She couldn't turn her back on him and she also didn't want to let him corner her against the edge of the roof. Her heart pounded in her chest and Barton kept talking, trying to throw her off.

"What's your name?" he asked as he deflected one of her punches. He struck back and the back of his fist glanced off the side of her head, making her wince. "Do you speak English? _Ty govorish' na russkom?_ " [ _Do you speak Russian?_ ]

Maggie did her best to ignore his words - she would not let him distract her. She had the advantage here: her face and eyes were covered, but she could read his every glance. Not that he was easy to read. Despite his seemingly friendly words he was a serious fighter, moving fast and deadly.

Her rigorous self-training was paying off. She kept her centre of gravity low and balanced, and moved from attack to defense seamlessly, switching up her use of strikes, blocks, energy bolts, and body slams. Recalling another trick she had up her sleeve, Maggie spun under one of Barton's punches, slid a knife from a holster in her boot, and as she rose flung the blade at him.

The knife whistled between his arm and chest, and Barton glanced up at her. "Oh okay, you're _fighting_ me."

Maggie didn't understand what he meant until Barton reached down and unholstered his gun.

That wasn't really what she'd wanted, but she worked with it. She dove forward and kicked at his hand, but Barton was faster. They swung and whirled around each other, Maggie trying to get the gun away from him and Barton trying to aim it at her. Their hands moved lightning fast now, striking and blocking and swinging. She could barely keep up. She realized now that Barton had been holding back before, trying to pin her down rather than beat her. But he was fighting for survival now. And he was better than her.

Breath rasping in her throat, Maggie slashed her claws at Barton's exposed face. He jerked his head back just in time and a _crack_ pierced the air between them.

The bullet hit Maggie like a punch in the side. She gasped and staggered back, hand flying to her stomach. She felt for the wound, her ears ringing, and found the side of her flight suit torn open at her abdomen, dripping with blood. Fire lanced through her side, taking her breath away. _Not a fatal shot_ , she told herself. Panic flared in her chest and rose up her throat.

Barton's face went grim but he didn't stop. He strode forward, his stance low.

_I need to end this._

Maggie feigned another staggering step back, and Barton launched forward. But Maggie planted her back foot and turned the move into a high spinning kick, and her metal prosthetic heel _crack_ ed across Barton's jaw harder than either of them expected.

Barton dropped, clutching his face with a groan, and Maggie fled. She sprinted for the edge of the rooftop and leaped, hitting the next roof a few feet away at a run.

She didn't look back. Maggie dashed from rooftop to rooftop, her boots thudding over shingles and her knees jarring with each impact, one hand pressed to her burning side. She made it half a mile before she heard the low whir of her wings coming back online. She didn't pause to run diagnostics. Sobbing in relief she flung her wings wide and rocketed upward, disappearing into the dark sky.

Back on the shadowy rooftop Clint cursed, clutching his jaw, even as he knelt down and soaked a torn-off piece of his shirt in the dark blood gleaming on the shingles.

* * *

Hotel de Paris, Monaco

That afternoon, Tony tested his blood alone in the fancy hotel bathroom, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the spidery dark blue lines around the arc reactor, and the false smile missing from his face. He'd been looking forward today - he enjoyed racing, and coming to a beautiful city with Pepper by his side was his idea of a good time. This was supposed to be his vacation.

But this was all still a show, and today the show didn't feel like a game. Pepper was unhappy with him because he'd hired Rushman, and then _Justin Hammer_ had showed up and started spouting off about presenting at the Expo. That smarmy ass was the bane of his existence.

And Maggie hadn't come. He hadn't heard from her since yesterday.

Tony flinched back from the finger spike, then eyed the scanner.

_Blood toxicity: 53%_

No wonder he felt so tired. This was deteriorating fast.

Tony leaned forward, bracing himself on the bathroom counter, and eyed himself in the mirror. _53%._ He didn't want to waste any more energy on the things that weren't worthwhile, and the idea of going back out there to talk to _Justin Hammer_ and pretend in front of Pepper that everything was fine…

He used to watch the Grand Prix races with Maggie, talking about the designs of the cars and the skills of the drivers. They hadn't done that in years. He doubted he'd even be able to see much of the race from the hotel, what with the all the politics and press packed in the main room.

He sighed and met his own eyes in the mirror. "Got any other bad ideas?"

* * *

Yerevan, Armenia

Later that evening, Maggie stopped running. She'd gone completely offgrid in her escape from Tbilisi, going through seven different modes of transport, three different countries, and ten disguises. She'd shut down all her devices. She'd even flown over a mountain range to get totally away from potential surveillance. Not even the best intelligence agency would have been able to follow her, she was certain.

Now, in a hotel room she'd checked into disguised as an old woman, Maggie allowed herself to relax. She closed the curtains, locked the door, turned on the TV to mask any sounds she might make, and then retreated to the bathroom. She slowly peeled off her disguise, groaning. With the grey wig, bulky clothes, and hasty makeup gone, Maggie looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked how she felt - bruised, bloodied, and tired down to her bones. Her skin was clammy and pale and dark shadows hung under her eyes. A lump had risen on the side of her head, the purpling bruise stretching beyond her hairline to the corner of her eyebrow. Her skin was caked in grime, and the heels of her palms had been skinned when she fell over earlier today, without her gloves to protect her hands. She could feel other bruises forming on her back and knees from the fight, but her eyes went to the compression bandage she'd hastily wound around her abdomen while fleeing Tbilisi. It was stained scarlet.

Gingerly, Maggie peeled back the bandage to properly inspect the damage. She winced at what she found.

Overall, she thought, she'd gotten lucky. The bullet had gone clean through the side of her abdomen just above her hip, only an inch of unmarked skin between the entry and exit wound. The whole site was bloody and swollen, no doubt from her continued movement throughout the day. She gingerly touched above the entry wound before hissing and pulling away. The area was sensitive and raw like the edge of a nerve. But she didn't think the bullet had hit anything important. She suspected Agent Barton had not been aiming to kill.

"Asshole," she hissed, because he'd still _shot her._

_I'll need stitches_ , she realized as the jagged bulletholes began to seep thick, red blood. A rush of tiredness hit her. She looked back at her own reflection, and tears prickled at her eyes. She hadn't had a chance to stop and think all day, and it all seemed to rush over her.

_Deep breaths, Wyvern._ Maggie drew in a long, slow breath through her nose and released it from her mouth as she reached for one of the white hotel hand towels, rinsed it in warm water, and began to clean her wound. She'd treated plenty of her own injuries before, and though she'd never treated a bullet wound she'd read up on it in advance. So she slowly went through the motions.

When she left the bathroom to get her medical supplies, however, she stopped in her tracks at the sound of her last name on the TV.

" _\- Stark was attacked mid-race by an unknown assailant using a form of homemade armor_ ," a newsreader's voice said; judging by her accent, the hotel TV had access to American channels.

Maggie glanced over at the screen, towel pressed to her side to stop the bleeding, and her stomach dropped at the image beside the grim-faced blonde newsreader: Iron Man in the Mark V armor, standing on the Monaco raceway wreathed in what looked like a glowing, crackling cord, facing off against a man wearing a snarl and an improvised mechanical harness.

The screen switched over to live footage as the newsreader continued to report:

" _Viewers of the Monaco Formula One Grand Prix were shocked when at the last minute Tony Stark announced he would be driving his own car in the race_ " - the footage showed Tony in a blue _STARK_ racing suit and sunglasses, waving to the crowds as he slid into the driver's seat of a racecar. Maggie's heart leaped, but she didn't blink.

" _Midway through the race, the unknown assailant walked onto the raceway and attacked several cars with an improvised device, including Mr Stark's car._ " Maggie stared at the footage of the bulky man striding onto the road, two crackling, glowing cords extending from his arms. The footage abruptly cut to a clip of the man bringing one of the crackling whips down on the blue and white Stark car, cutting it clean in two. Maggie flinched, then had to set her hand against the wall for support when the Tony's car flipped into the air, spewing sparks and smoke, before slamming into the ground.

_This had to have been hours ago_ , she realized as she watched the car screech across the ground and collide into a barrier. Her eyes darted over the screen. _And they still haven't said what happened to Tony._ Her skin felt hot and tight, and her vision blurred.

" _A duel then ensued on the raceway between Mr Stark, who later donned the Iron Man armor, and the individual whom some have given the moniker of 'Whiplash_ '."

A dizzying array of images: Tony in just his racing outfit, backing away from the swinging electric whips as fire raged on the raceway. A black sedan hitting the assailant, driven by - _is that Happy_? _And Pepper?_ Then Tony in the red and silver armor, this time captured in shaky cellphone footage as he snared himself in the electric whips, getting close enough to slam the assailant to the ground.

Maggie let out a breath.

" _The perpetrator has been taken into the custody of Monaco police. Six Grand Prix drivers were injured in the attack and are being treated at local hospitals, and..._ "

Maggie pushed off the wall and hurried to her go bag, digging past the medical supplies and pulling out her dead phone. She switched it on and hurriedly ran a trace wipe. When the program was done, she scrolled past her missed calls and messages, and hit speed dial for Tony.

She sat on the end of the hotel bed, towel pressed to her side, listening to the ringtone. When Tony didn't pick up, her heart skipped a beat. _But he looked okay. The news would have said if…_

She hit the next number on her speed dial.

Pepper picked up almost instantly. " _Maggie! I've been trying to reach you all day, Tony was-_ "

"I saw on the news, is he okay?"

" _He's fine, save for some scrapes-_ "

"And are you okay? I saw-"

" _I'm okay, so is Happy. We got really lucky. Hold on a second, Maggie - Natalie, could you take that call from PR for me? Thanks._ "

Maggie stood up and made her way back to the bathroom, grabbing her medical supplies on the way.

Pepper's voice returned: " _Where have you been all day? We were worried_." She certainly sounded it - her voice was high and brittle. She must've been through a lot today.

"I just had my phone off, I'm really sorry," Maggie responded, setting the call to speakerphone. She began arranging her supplies on the counter. "Where's Tony? He didn't answer my call."

" _He went with the Monaco police about half an hour ago, I'm sure he'll call you back. Listen, I know you were going to try to meet us in Monaco but the Grand Prix is obviously cancelled and we're going to head back to the jet in an hour. I need you to head back home, we're going to need your help_."

"Help?" Maggie selected her needle and sutures.

" _With the damage control. SI's already in a fragile place, and now Iron Man's just been challenged by some crazy guy with an arc reactor._ "

Her fingers stilled. "That guy had an arc reactor?"

" _Yes, and I've already got the DoD and half the engineering world leaping on my back-_ "

"I'll head back first thing," Maggie reassured her, frowning. "We'll handle this, Pepper."

She was met only with a tired-sounding sigh. " _See you soon, Maggie_."

The call disconnected. Maggie frowned at the phone, a million thoughts running through her head. _A fully functioning arc reactor? What does this mean?_

But then her side throbbed, and she winced. _One disaster at a time._

She threaded the suture needle, drew a steadying breath, and then got to work.

* * *

Maison d'Arrêt, Monaco

"You come from a family of thieves and butchers," was the first thing Ivan Vanko told Tony in the grim, bare prison cell. He was a grim looking man himself, even as he sat shirtless and shackled, with scars and tattoos all over his body and a cunning glint in his eye. He had a thick Russian accent. Tony hadn't been expecting him to say _that_ , but it made sense - if Vanko had a personal grudge, that explained why he didn't just sell the Arc Reactor tech to the highest bidder.

Vanko did not shy away from Tony's gaze. "And now like all guilty men, you try to rewrite your own history. And you forget all the lives the Stark family has destroyed."

"Speaking of thieves, where did you get this design?" Tony countered. He'd looked over Vanko's arc reactor tech, and the design was sound.

"My father. Anton Vanko."

"Well, I've never heard of him."

Vanko looked him up and down, his eyes stopping on the glow of the arc reactor in his chest. "My father is the reason you're alive."

"The reason I'm alive is because you had a shot, you took it, and you missed," Tony replied evenly.

"Did I?" Vanko questioned, eyes glinting. "If you can make god bleed, the people will cease to believe in him." His voice dropped. "And there will be blood in the water. And the sharks will come. The truth, all I have to do is sit here and watch as the world will consume you."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "Where will you be watching the world consume me from? That's right - a prison cell." He got to his feet. "I'll send you a bar of soap."

He strode for the door, shaking off Vanko's grim aura like a bad dream.

"Hey Tony, before you go," Vanko called after him. "Palladium in the chest…" Tony paused at the door, his back to Vanko and his heart pounding. "Painful way to die." There was a smile in his voice.

Tony let out a breath as he knocked on the cell door. _Not even Maggie has worked that one out_. The door opened and he strode out, nodding to the police officers who'd brought him down.

His heart pounded erratically in his chest. He'd never had anyone acknowledge the truth apart from himself and J.A.R.V.I.S.

On his way out of the prison, Tony checked his phone to see he had a missed call from Maggie. _Finally_. He called her back, but the call dropped out. She messaged him back shortly, though:

_Sorry, reception is patchy. Are you okay?_

He tapped out a quick reply: _I'm fine. Where are you?_

As he strode over to the car where Happy waited, her response came back: _Heading home. I spoke to Pepper, will meet you both there._

Tony sighed. _See you then_. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. There were so many things he wanted to say. But he just hit _send_.

He nodded to Happy, who opened the car door for him. As he climbed in, his phone buzzed again:

_Love you_ , Maggie had written. _Glad you're okay_.

Followed a second later by: _The Mark V delivery looked great._

Smiling, Tony buckled his seatbelt as Happy drove them off into the night.

* * *

Hotel de Paris, Monaco

Natasha Romanoff sighed. She hadn't had a minute alone since the morning, and the day had been… less than ideal. She'd just watched, helpless, as Stark fought off an attacker with electric whips on the Monaco raceway. Hogan and Potts had helped save him, for god sakes, leaving her in the hotel. It still took some getting used to: being responsible for keeping her targets alive, rather than making them dead.

Thankfully Stark was in one piece and the attacker was in prison, but she knew she had a busy few days ahead - both as Stark's PA and as the SHIELD agent assigned to protect and monitor him. He certainly made the job interesting.

She'd already sent off her report on the day to Fury, and packed all the necessaries for the jet back to the states, which would be leaving in - she checked her watch - an hour.

Alone in her hotel room, Natasha kicked off her heels for a moment and stretched, before pulling out her burner phone.

She shot off an encrypted message to Barton: _You okay? Heard you were in medical._

Fury had mentioned it when she called him after the raceway incident. Natasha had only known Clint Barton for slightly longer than a year, but he was the closest person in her life - not that she was close with anyone. He'd folded her into his life with open arms and an open heart after bringing her in to SHIELD, even confiding in her his greatest secret: his family. Natasha was neither emotional nor sentimental, but she appreciated Barton. Hearing that he'd been injured was… concerning. She didn't know anything about his assignment, nor did he know much about hers.

Clint's reply wasn't too long in coming: _Yeah, they said I cracked my mandible. I'm going to be eating through a straw for a few days, but they've got some experimental treatment which they say will fix me up quicker. I'm tracking this real tricky target, she's cocky enough that you'd think she'd be easy to intercept but somehow she keeps slipping away._

Natasha's lips quirked. _I know what you mean by cocky. My assignment should by all rights be dead in a ditch._

She'd just raided her room's minibar when Clint responded again:

_That would be a hell of a lot easier. But my target could be a real asset for SHIELD if she got her head out of her own ass._

Natasha's brows lifted. _I'd be concerned we're talking about the same person, but I'm not assigned to a female._

Clint responded almost instantly: _Maybe once we bring them in we should put them on a team together._

_I don't think my guy's a team player_ , she wrote back.

_Nor mine. Oh well_.

There was a knock at the door, and Natasha slid the phone under a cushion on the hotel room seat. "Enter."

Happy opened the door and stuck his head in warily. He'd been wary around her ever since the boxing ring incident. _Good_. "We're heading to the airfield now, are you ready?"

"Yes, I'll be right there."

He nodded once and vanished.

Natasha grabbed the burner phone and sent off one last quick message: _Rest up, idiot._

* * *

The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

Agent Phil Coulson strode into SHIELD's medical wing and spotted Agent Barton straight away. He lay on the bed closest to the glass doors, his head swaddled in bandages like a cartoon character. He had a few bruises on his arms, but the main injury seemed to be the jaw. Clint looked up at the sound of the door sliding open and waved. The nurse on duty looked over as well, nodded to Phil, then turned back to her paperwork.

"Agent Barton," Phil greeted, striding over to his bedside. Clint gave another small wave. "Can you talk?"

"A little," Clint murmured, moving his mouth as little as possible. The bandages kept his jaw mostly immobilised.

"How are you feeling?"

Clint tipped his head from one side to the other. "Good, aside from the broken jaw." He lifted the edge of one of the bandages to show a shockingly purple bruise on his chin. Phil winced in sympathy.

"You've got some time to submit your mission report, but I wanted to get your verbal report now," Phil explained. "I take this" - he gestured to Clint's face - "to mean that the Wyvern wasn't happy about being contacted?" He recalled David Marlow's warning. _She's got claws, y'know._

Clint grimaced, as much as he was able. "Not very. Don't think she liked being surprised. Or being cornered."

Phil sighed. "Well we didn't have many other options to contact her. You did the right thing." He thought about it. "She won't fall for another setup like that, but perhaps we could reach out in the form of offering a bounty, see if we can tempt her with something." He frowned even as he said it - the Wyvern had proven herself notoriously selective with missions, and he knew this failed contact attempt would likely drive her further into hiding. "If we can't seriously contact her, we'll have to think about switching tacks and looking into shutting her down."

But Clint _smiled_. "I'll do you one better." He shifted, grunting, until he reached the tub full of his clothes beside the bed. He rummaged in the tub for a moment before retrieving… a plastic sandwich bag with what looked like a dark scrap of cloth in it.

Phil raised an eyebrow. "And that is…?"

Clint waved the bag at him, and Phil noticed dark smudges on the inside of the plastic. " _That_ , Agent Coulson, is the Wyvern's blood."

Phil's eyes widened.

Clint smiled wider, then winced and reached up to touch his jaw. "Ow." He handed the bag over and Phil took it carefully, already eyeing the amount of blood and figuring out whether the SHIELD analysts would have enough to work with. "So, not a total mission failure after all?"

Phil looked up. "Certainly not. Well done, Hawkeye."

* * *

May 24, 2010  
Over the Atlantic Ocean

Pepper looked down at the soggy omelette Tony had made in the jet kitchenette, startled. Then a softer, more considering look came over her face, and she looked up at him.

"Tony," she murmured. "What are you not telling me?"

He'd been glancing out at the clouds, bathed golden in the sunrise as the jet soared high above them. But he glanced back at Pepper and his throat constricted at the look in her eyes. It was the look she wore so rarely, the one that stripped away his layers of charm and jokes and acting.

"I don't want to go home," he said, completely honest. "At all."

Pepper smiled, tired lines around her eyes. The sun slanted through the jet window over her face.

"Let's cancel my birthday party and…" he thought about it. "We're in Europe, let's go to Venice, Cipriani. Remember?" They'd both been there for a business conference, a million years ago. It was one of the first times they'd had a real conversation, hiding from the lobby full of businessmen together on the roof, under the stars.

"Oh, yes," Pepper smiled, her eyebrows lifted. She was remembering the part after, when Tony had gone skinny dipping in the fountain.

But the idea had struck something inside Tony. A place to get away. "I'll invite Maggie, you know she'll take any chance to skive off work, and she does love to travel. It's a great place to…" he pictured it. "To be healthy."

Pepper sighed. "I don't think this is the right time," she said apologetically. "We're in… kind of a mess."

"Yeah, but maybe that's why it's the _best_ time."

"Well, I think as the CEO I need to show up." She arched an eyebrow.

"As CEO you are entitled to a… leave."

"A leave?" she echoed, incredulously.

"A company retreat," he persisted. "Both Starks'll be there, that counts for something-"

"A retreat, during a time like this?"

Tony's gaze dropped. He couldn't bear to look at her, couldn't bear to think of the mess he'd leave her in when he inevitably… he swallowed. "Well, I'm just saying, to recharge our batteries and… figure it all out."

"Not everybody runs on batteries, Tony," she said softly, and when he looked up at her she was smiling. It tugged at a smile on his own lips and for a moment they just looked at each other. And for just that moment, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably no midweek update this week, sorry! You'll have to hang in suspense until Sunday ;)


	21. Chapter Twenty

May 24, 2010  
Private Air Hangar, Monaco

"My name is Justin Hammer. I'd like to do some business with you, please sit."

After his violent escape from prison, Ivan Vanko sized up the smiling, soft-haired man in the fine suit who had apparently financed his freedom. Ivan still wore grey prison scrubs. He watched and listened closely as the man, Hammer, ate organic icecream and talked continuously, as if they were business partners.

It took only a few seconds for Ivan to realize that this _Hammer_ seemed completely out of his depth. It took a minute for him to realize that this wasn't an act, and Hammer really did believe himself to be some far-thinking business mogul.

Ivan chewed on his toothpick, calculating.

"What I saw you do to Tony Stark on that track," Hammer said as his eyes lit up, "how you stepped up to him in front of God and everybody, that was… wow!" He smiled. "You spoke to me with what you did. And I know that you knew that I'd be listening."

Ivan leaned forward.

"This is why I couldn't bear to have you shipped off to God knows where. It would have been such a waste of talent." Hammer pressed a hand to his chest. "But if I might make a suggestion, you know, you don't just go and try and kill the guy. I think, if I may, you go after his _legacy_. That's what you kill."

_Yes_ , Ivan thought to himself, sitting at the fancy table in the private air hangar as Hammer talked. _This will work very well._

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Maggie got back to the mansion an hour after the others and walked inside, stiff from her injuries and the long flight. J.A.R.V.I.S. had projected three TV screens in the living area and they were all set to different news channels. Maggie paused to watch for a few seconds. Yesterday the authorities had identified the Monaco assailant as Ivan Vanko, a Russian physicist who'd done time for selling weapons-grade Plutonium, and last night Vanko had died in an attempt to escape the Monaco prison. Tony had given a press statement when he arrived back in the States this morning, quelling fears and reassuring everyone of Iron Man's continued vigilance. If the grim-looking newsreaders were any indication, the statement hadn't really worked.

" _... senators point to Stark's recent erratic behaviour and Vanko's use of arc reactor technology as reasons for the Iron Man armor to come under government control-_ "

"What _happened_ to you?"

Maggie jumped at the voice and glanced over to the kitchen where Pepper stood, a phone in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, her face pale as she stared at Maggie.

Maggie hesitated. She thought she'd done an alright job at covering up her injuries, but the spooked look in Pepper's eyes told her it hadn't been enough. Pepper's gaze zeroed in on the lumpy bruise on Maggie's temple, then scanned over her with x-ray precision. Maggie wore a long sleeve shirt and jeans to hide the rest of her bruises, and the bandage over her gunshot wound wasn't visible through her shirt. She stuffed her hands into her pockets to hide the scrapes on her palms. She was stiff and aching, but she hoped her posture was casual enough.

Maggie shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, and I promise, everything's fine. This" - she waved a hand at the bruise beside her eye - "was my mistake. I'll help you with the damage control in a minute, I just want to talk to Tony first."

Pepper's mouth thinned.

"Send me an email with any details about interviews or press or calls you need me to make, and I'll get it done," Maggie continued. She had a flight to New York later today, to check on the Expo, so she could handle any press from there.

Pepper nodded wordlessly, though her lips remained pressed together.

Maggie turned and headed for the stairs down to the workshop, careful to make sure her gait looked normal. But once Pepper was out of sight she took her time down the stairs, careful of her injury. Her side ached and twinged with every step.

She had to squint when she reached the bottom of the stairs. The workshop blinds were drawn, making the space inside dim and cool. She let herself in through the glass doors and peered around until she spotted Tony, standing in the small kitchenette, drinking a green smoothie.

Tony looked up at the sound of her footsteps and his eyebrows pinched together. "You're hurt."

Maggie waved a hand. "I'm fine, but how are you?" She ran her eyes over him. He had scrapes and a bruise on his cheekbone, and deep shadows under his eyes. He looked older and more tired than she had ever seen him. She winced in sympathy as she strode into the kitchenette. "Looks like it hurts."

Tony slid away, as if uncomfortable at her close examination. "I made it out in one piece," he said as he put down the smoothie. He glanced at her. "Where were you?"

"I'm really sorry, I lost track of time and totally missed the Grand Prix. I can't believe that Vanko guy had an Arc Reactor, do you know where he got it?"

The dark look in Tony's eyes as he strode past her to the workspaces told her that he did not miss her evasion, but he answered the question. "He made it."

"He what?"

"Apparently his father had the designs. J.A.R.V.I.S. is running the research for me, he should have everything by this evening." Tony walked around the worktables, picking up gadgets and moving them, collecting old coffee cups.

Maggie ran a hand over her jaw as she paced after him, thinking. "This is going to change things. Already they're talking about reopening the congressional hearing into Iron Man, and poor Pepper's upstairs doing her best to keep SI afloat." She sighed and followed Tony back to the kitchenette. "I guess it helps that this Vanko guy got himself killed, so we don't need to worry about more of your tech being out there. _And_ you stopped him, so really Iron Man worked perfectly. We'll put up a strong front like we have been doing, but we'll need to get Rhodey on board-"

"Why are you doing this?" Tony cut her off, whirling to face Maggie, and the bone-deep exhaustion in his voice startled her.

Maggie fell still. "Doing what?"

"Helping. Trying to fix this."

She frowned. "Because you're my brother, and I don't want to see the armor taken away from you?"

He shook his head. "I know. Ever since I came back from Afghanistan, you've been there for me. And I thought we were done keeping secrets. But Maggie… you said you'd be here." He met her eyes, and just looking at him made Maggie feel exhausted. "You said you'd be here, but you're _not_ , because you're still keeping secrets! And those secrets are getting you hurt!"

"I'm not-"

"Look at you!" he shouted, gesturing to her face.

"Look at _you_ ," she shouted back, pointing at his haggard appearance. "Let's not pretend I'm the only one with secrets. You don't understand, I'm keeping you _safe_ , Tony-"

"I'm freaking Iron Man!" He spread his hands. "I've got the strongest suit of armor in the world, and you still think you need to keep me safe?"

The words slid right through her armor and into her heart. It _hurt_ , but she instantly shored up her defenses with anger. "Yes, I do!"

"I'm fine, Maggie," he said curtly, and turned his back on her. "I think you need to take a look in the mirror."

Maggie stared at his back for a long moment, taking in the slump to his shoulders, and remembering the shadows in his eyes.

"Fine." She turned on her heel and walked out. Tony didn't call after her, and he did not follow.

Maggie stormed upstairs, ignoring the sharp pain in her side, and then strode down the gleaming corridor back towards the front door. Her jaw was clenched and her face hot, a million thoughts crowding for space in her mind.

She turned a corner, and instantly jolted to a halt to avoid running into the person striding in the opposite direction.

Maggie Stark and Natasha Romanoff faced off in the corridor, assessing each other with narrowed eyes.

Maggie's first impression was _holy moly, that's a beautiful woman_. The woman stood about a head shorter than her and had deep red hair that fell in curls around her face, and a pair of intelligent, assessing green eyes. She wore a pale pink blouse and a black pencil skirt.

Then Maggie forced herself to think with her brain. "Who are you?"

The woman blinked, long and slow, and said: "Natalie Rushman." Her voice was smooth, measured.

Maggie's eyes narrowed. " _Why_ are you." Then she realized she might still be a bit distracted, and finished: "Here. Why are you here."

The woman's mouth curled up at the corner as if she could hear Maggie's thoughts. "I'm Mr Stark's personal assistant. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms Stark." She held out a hand and Maggie took it without thinking. Their handshake was short: two pumps and then out, but both Maggie and Rushman did their best to crush the other's bones.

"Right," Maggie said. "How long have you worked for him?"

"Three days."

Maggie didn't know what to make of this. Natalie sounded perfectly reasonable, but there was a light in her green eyes that said _come on, you know I'm lying to you, right? How long is it going to take you to figure it out?_ It was a move in a chess game, and Maggie never realized she was even playing.

"How long do you plan to stay?" she asked. "I know he's not easy to work with."

"I'm excited by the opportunity to continue building my career at Stark Industries," Natalie said with a polite smile.

"Sure." Maggie eyed Natalie for a few long moments before she realized they were still squared off in the middle of the corridor, staring at each other. "I've gotta go."

"Of course." Natalie stepped to the side. "Have a safe flight, Ms Stark."

Maggie walked off, heading for the door, but a few seconds later her eyes narrowed again and she turned around. Ms Rushman still stood there, watching her with a polite smile. _I never said I was flying_. She glared, but Ms Rushman didn't move or break her smile, so Maggie grit her teeth, turned around and kept walking.

_Something really weird is going on_. But she had other weirdness to focus on for now, so she tabled the Natalie Rushman mystery for a later date.

* * *

Later that evening it was Rhodey's turn to come down to the workshop and yell at Tony. He'd come down just as J.A.R.V.I.S. finished giving his report on Vanko, spitting mad about the political situation and how he'd spent all day convincing the army not to come and take the Iron Man suits by force.

But then Rhodey looked at Tony, really looked, and saw his clammy skin and the look in his eyes. Tony stumbled out of the hotrod he'd been sitting in, and Rhodey rushed to help him stagger over to the worktables and replace his Palladium chip. Tony couldn't hide the tremors running up and down his body, or the shortness of breath.

Rhodey looked down at the used Palladium chip as it smoked in his hand. "You had this in your _body_?" He slid the new chip into the reactor as he eyed Tony. "And how about the high-tech crossword puzzle on your neck?"

"Road rash," Tony murmured. He took the reactor and slid it back into his chest, sighing. "Thank you." He faced away from Rhodey for a moment to catch his breath and shake off those few moments of fear he'd felt when he thought that this time it was too late, the Palladium had gone too far.

"Does Maggie know about this?" Rhodey asked.

"Know about what?" Tony bluffed. The reactor glowed to life, bringing with it the sense of wholeness and _right_ ness that it always did. He reached for another chlorophyll smoothie and then finally glanced over at Rhodey. His oldest friend stood with one hand on his mouth, peering at Tony. "What're you looking at?"

"I'm looking at you," he replied, his voice low. "You want to do this whole… lone gunslinger act, and it's unnecessary! You don't have to do this alone."

"You know, I wish I could believe that," Tony grit out tiredly. "I really do. But you've gotta trust me. Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I'm doing." He raised his eyebrows at Rhodey, who just looked back at him, evaluating and unsure.

Tony pushed down the fear, and let that familiar false confidence slide back over him.

Truth was, he _was_ reasonably sure about what he was going to do about Iron Man. The world needed Iron Man, but he couldn't be there. He'd thought about passing the armor on to Maggie - she knew the suit better than anyone else in the world, and shared his feelings about why Iron Man was important. But the idea scared him. He didn't want to put her in the line of fire, and recent events had shown that she was clearly too caught up with whatever else was going on in her life.

But Rhodey… Rhodey was used to the line of fire. He'd step up to the plate, be a force for good.

But Tony couldn't say the words, not just yet. Tony watched Rhodey watch him, and thought _he'll know when the right time is._

* * *

Hammer Industries, New York

Ivan Vanko looked up at the metal suits that Justin Hammer had designed and produced, arrayed in the white display room like a battalion of empty men. He climbed the ladder up to one of the suits and tore off the helmet.

"Um, that's where the pilot goes," Hammer called up, sounding strained. "I'm having a tough time finding volunteers." He let out a nervous laugh as Ivan examined the helmet. "I'll take care of that, just leave it."

Ivan tossed the helmet and looked back down. "What you want them do?"

Hammer scratched his neck. "Well, long term, I want them to put me in the Pentagon for the next 25 years." He steadied himself as Ivan climbed back down. "I want to make Iron Man look like an antique, I want to go to that Stark Expo, I wanna take a dump in Tony and Maggie's front yard. You know what I'm talking about?"

Ivan chuckled. "I can do that. No problem."

* * *

Encrypted report from Agent Romanoff to Director Fury:

_I know I'm not assigned to Ms Stark but there is something going on with her. She and Mr Stark get under each other's skin, but only because they let each other under their skin. They both worry about each other. I don't think Ms Stark knows the extent of Mr Stark's issues. Recommend further surveillance of Ms Stark._

* * *

Maggie spent the next few days run off her feet - she spent most of her daylight hours on the phone with various reporters, politicians, and armed forces personnel trying to reassure everyone that Stark Industries and Iron Man were still in a secure position after the Monaco incident. She flew between New York and LA several times, ensuring the Expo still ran smoothly (since Pepper was too busy to do it, and Hammer's upcoming exhibition was drawing a lot of eyes), to have press and company meetings in LA, and also to have in-person meetings with various folk in D.C. She was technically still only a Stark Industries consultant, but realistically she had a lot of sway when it came to reassuring people of Tony's position. Not that she spoke to him at all.

Maggie took calls from Pepper and Rhodey all day, but she and Tony hadn't spoken since their fight. They both knew the other was keeping secrets. Maggie was worried about Tony, and about what was going to Iron Man, and the fact that someone else had been able to build an Arc Reactor. But it was clear Tony didn't want her involved in his personal business. So _fine_. She'd do her part as a Stark Industries employee and supporter of Iron Man.

At the same time, Maggie had her own personal business. In between company calls and speaking on the news, Maggie was looking in to the trap that had been laid for her in Tbilisi. It was clear that this Agent Barton worked for a larger organisation. She wondered if the trap had something to do with her Winter Soldier investigation - if someone was trying to hush her up. But Barton hadn't mentioned anything about that, and his annoying talkativeness didn't exactly fit the Winter Soldier MO. She followed up the false leads that had been laid for her, creeping closer to an answer.

Pepper kept reminding Maggie of Tony's upcoming birthday party.

"I don't know if I'll make it, sorry," Maggie told her the day before the party, from New York. "Are we sure a party is a good idea anyway, what with everything happening? Rhodey is calling _me_ now asking when Iron Man is going to be back on watch."

A long silence stretched over the phone, before: "Maggie, I don't want to get in the middle of whatever's happening with you and Tony, but I know he would really appreciate having you there."

"Sounds like there's enough people invited that he shouldn't miss me," she said spitefully, then sighed. "I really am busy, Pepper. And he'll get my present regardless." She'd bought him a high-tech smoothie maker, since that was all he seemed to drink these days. Maggie bit her lip. "If Tony asks me, himself, to come, then I will. But I don't think he actually wants me there."

Pepper sighed, and ended the call soon after that.

Pepper tried to pass on that message throughout that day and the next, but Tony was avoiding her. Maggie never got a call from Tony, and so she prepared herself for a night of Wyvern investigation.

* * *

May 29, 2010  
US Customs Port of Entry, Mexico-USA Border

For the first time in four years, Bruce Banner set foot on American soil.

* * *

Stark Mansion

In the darkness of his private sitting room, Tony looked up at Natalie Rushman as she dabbed concealer onto the bruise beneath his eye, in preparation for his birthday party. He _really_ didn't get what her deal was, but there was something like kindness in her eyes.

"Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?" he blurted out. "Bit odd." The Palladium reading from earlier seemed to be burned behind his eyes: _89%._ He'd had to button his shirt up all the way to hide the dark markings, and even then they were still visible if he tilted his neck a certain way. "If this was your last…" he reached up to rub at the tension headache building between his eyes, "last birthday you were ever going to have, how would you celebrate it?" He looked up at her.

Natalie appeared to think about it for a moment. Then she shrugged. "I'd do whatever I wanted to do. With whoever I wanted to do it with."

Then she stood up and walked away.

Tony leaned over and looked into his martini glass. _If only it were that easy_. He tipped the glass back and downed it in one.

* * *

Margaret Stark's Apartment, Los Angeles

Maggie had spent the day immersed in the shadow world. She hadn't left her apartment since arriving yesterday, determined to figure out who had laid the trap for her in Tbilisi and why - they were clearly a few steps ahead of her, and she didn't want to fall further behind.

After a few hours of digging into the false leads she got at the source: an IP address which had since been disconnected, but another half hour of tenaciously pulling at the thread yielded an answer:

_Agent Clint Barton. SHIELD._

Magge sat back, staring at her computer. _SHIELD._ Who had first tracked down Maggie Stark in Peru, in an attempt to hire her as a weapons developer. When Agent Coulson emerged again after Tony's time in Afghanistan Maggie had looked into them: they were a shadowy intelligence branch, overseen not by the US Government but by the World Security Council, who were a bureaucratic organisation but who did their best work in the shadows. SHIELD wasn't a secret, necessarily, but most people never heard of them or the work they did.

Maggie had even sent intelligence and leads their way a few times, after the business with Iron Man. She trusted the organisation about as far as she trusted any intelligence organisation, but they seemed capable. She knew Coulson as an acquaintance, and he had even been nice to her - both when she was a drifter, and when they met again at Stark Industries.

But Coulson had been nice to Margaret Stark. She didn't know what he, or the rest of SHIELD, would have to say to the Wyvern. She was almost 99% sure they hadn't connected Maggie to the Wyvern, or they wouldn't have bothered with the elaborate trap in Tbilisi. And it had been pretty clear they intended to take her in against her will.

After doing a little more fishing Maggie made her way to bed, considering what to do about SHIELD. Perhaps she'd give Coulson a call, get some more information about them. She didn't want to join any shadowy organization, but she had come to the realization that the Wyvern might need allies. Having to stitch up her own bullet wound in a hotel room in Armenia had told her as much. _Maybe I can't do it all on my own._

With that thought in mind, she checked the TMZ website before she turned off her bedroom lights. Sure enough the website was already flooded with reports and pictures from Tony's birthday party. The mansion was lit up like a beacon and lavishly decorated, packed with people having a good time.

Maggie sighed, left TMZ, then sent Tony a quick message:

_Happy birthday, Tony. I love you_.

Then she switched off her phone and went to sleep, her thoughts full of SHIELD and men on rooftops shooting arrows at her and the shadows under Tony's eyes.

* * *

Stark Mansion

Pepper got to the party late - she'd been held up in a meeting with the SI board - and when she arrived Tony was already drunk. And in the Iron Man suit. She stared, frozen at the edge of the party, as Tony danced and DJed and held court over the ecstatic guests.

A few minutes later she bumped into Rhodey, who took one look at her face and her stammered _I need to get some air_ , and asked: "What's wrong?"

She led him back to the living area just as Tony staggered drunkenly off the small stage, laughing.

"I don't know what to do," she breathed.

A stormcloud rolled over Rhodey's face. "That's it, I'm going to-" he turned to leave, but Pepper grabbed his sleeve.

"No, don't call anyone!"

"This is ridiculous," Rhodey hissed, "I just stuck my neck out for this guy!"

"I know, I know, I get it-"

"Let's call Maggie-"

Pepper winced. "I really don't know if that's a good idea right now, she's angry at him-"

" _I'm_ angry at him!" Rhodey snapped.

"I'm going to handle it, okay? Just let me handle it." Pepper had no idea really what to do, but Rhodey looked to be on the verge of doing something drastic.

Rhodey stilled, his eyes on Tony as he waved a champagne bottle around like a sceptre. "Handle it," he said in a lower voice. "Or I'm going to have to."

* * *

Tony was having _fun_.

Or at least he thought he was - this swooping, falling sensation in his stomach and the prickle of everyone's eyes on him was what fun was, right? He hadn't had fun in a while, and he was a little too drunk to remember properly. He wondered if alcohol had any negative effects when mixed with Palladium.

Pepper took the mic from him and tried to send everyone home. She looked beautiful tonight - well, she always did. Smiling for the crowd, but her eyes dark and concerned when they fell on him. _You're out of control, okay?_ She'd murmured to him. _Trust me on this one._ And he did trust her, with his life, but not even Pepper could save that now.

When she gave back the microphone - swapping it with the champagne bottle, because even irritated at him she knew that just shoving the mic at him would make his stomach swoop with panic - Tony introduced her to his audience: "Pepper Potts." They clapped. As they should.

"She's right," he told them all as he stepped off stage, the suit clanking. "The party's over. Then again the party was over me like, an hour and a half ago. Can I call it my birthday party when my own sister doesn't even show up?" he wondered aloud. But that was a little _too_ close to real. And he'd planned it this way, sort of, anyway. Pushing Maggie away was easier than having her close and seeing him fall apart.

He cleared his throat and spread his hands. "The _after_ party starts in fifteen minutes!" The crowd broke into cheers, drowning out his slowly sobering doubts. "And if anybody - _Pepper_ \- doesn't like it, there's the door-" he flung a hand in the direction of the front door and then staggered back when he accidentally let off a repulsor blast, which scorched over everyone's heads and shattered the plate glass wall by the stairs.

He caught a glimpse of Pepper, with her eyes closed, and Rhodey staring across the room with a clenched jaw, but then the cheers and laughter of his crowd, his friends, drew his attention.

The night went downhill after that.

The silver Mark II armor suited Rhodey. He looked like what Iron Man was supposed to be - a strong, determined symbol, sure of himself.

The helmet clanged down over Rhodey's face as the party guests scattered, and he strode toward Tony with heavy steps. "You don't deserve to wear one of these! Shut it down!"

With cognac in one hand and the microphone in the other, Tony turned to the cowering DJ. "Goldstein!"

The DJ's head popped up. "Yes, Mr Stark?"

Something hot and bitter rose up Tony's throat. "Give me a fat beat to" - he broke into a hysterical giggle - "beat my buddy's ass to."

Goldstein, bless him, didn't hesitate before cueing up _Another One Bites the Dust._ Tony gave him a nod.

When Rhodey launched forward and seized Tony in a hold, Tony smiled despite himself. _Here we go_.

* * *

The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

Doctor Sandeep Khatri did not like working the late shift. But SHIELD protocols dictated that the Triskelion needed at least one on-call forensic analyst on site at all times, and he'd gotten unlucky with the rota this month. Still, it meant he had extra time to talk his student intern through the job, though the young dark-haired Culver graduate had yawned through half his instructions so far.

Sandeep cleared his throat, and the intern - he thought his name was Higgins - blinked and perked up. "We also need to review the active DNA analyses." He gestured to the computer monitor which was running the current database algorithms. "We compare to dozens of local, national, and international databases, as well as the SHIELD database, so searches tend to take a few hours to a few days. Tell me what you see."

Higgins blinked a few more times, then squinted at the screen. "There's several searches running at once."

"Yes," Sandeep said with an attempt at patience. "There are hundreds of active SHIELD cases at any given time, and many of those require DNA sequencing for some reason or other. First we have to handle extraction of DNA, quantitation, amplification, and separation, before we have a viable profile to compare against the databases. You _will_ experience trigger-happy agents yelling at you to _expedite the process_ ," he warned. "If you ever figure out a way to explain the scientific method to them without them getting angrier, let me know."

Higgins swallowed nervously. He'd seen a few field agents around the Triskelion, and knew not to get in their way. He couldn't imagine the STRIKE team had much patience for chemistry.

Sandeep turned to move on to the DNA sequencing equipment, but then the intern said:

"Excuse me, doctor, I think this analysis is finished?"

Sure enough, a second later the computer let out a low _ding._ Sandeep turned, sighing, to see the third case down on the screen - CB20100523 - read _database match complete._ He fired up the monitor next to the readout screen. "Okay, so it's coming up with a partial known match, that's great. It's for the Wyvern case, Agent Coulson briefed me personally about this one; I've spent the last week on extraction and amplification since it was a small sample size." He turned to Higgins. "What we'll need to do now is quality assure the results, collate a report for the case file, and then contact the agent in charge."

Sandeep turned back to the results screen and ran an eye over the data. He froze.

Higgins leaned over his shoulder. "Does that say…?"

Sandeep frowned, closed the software, and then opened it again. He searched the case number, then re-checked the database match.

Higgins wasn't yawning now. "It _is_ ," he breathed.

Sandeep stared at the screen a moment longer before he pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Higgins asked, his voice high.

Sandeep let out a breath. "We need to get these results straight to Director Fury."

* * *

Puente Antiguo, New Mexico

Doctor Jane Foster chewed her lip as she ran over the data on her jury-rigged equipment, her arms crossed.

"So what's up with the flashing and the beeping and whatnot?" called her irreverent assistant, Darcy Lewis. The Culver undergrad was tipping whiskey into her coffee thermos.

Jane didn't take her eyes off the readings. She could tell Darcy the details - that the strange atmospheric phenomena of the past few days was only increasing in intensity, more than likely the sign of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge forming in the desert.

Instead, she just said: "I think I need to call Erik Selvig."

* * *

May 30, 2010  
Downtown Los Angeles

Maggie woke up at dawn. She rolled out of bed, got dressed, and then headed out to make the short walk to her local coffee shop for breakfast. Yawning, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and switched it on.

Right away, she knew had happened. She had a half dozen missed calls from various people, and dozens of automatic news alerts, but the first notification that popped up was a text message from Rhodey which read:

_I don't know what Tony's problem is, but maybe he'll listen to you_.

It had been sent in the early hours of the morning. Maggie frowned.

She'd made it to the coffee shop so she ordered a croissant and a coffee, and then pulled out her phone again. She decided to google ' _Tony Stark_ _news_ ', since that usually told her what the problem was.

"Oh my _god_ ," she hissed. The barista glanced up at her, eyebrows raised, and Maggie had to shoot her a polite smile.

It wasn't good. The main headlines read something along the lines of _OUT-OF-CONTROL STARK PARTY ENDS IN ARMORED DUEL._ Hand over her mouth, Maggie scanned through the articles. The pictures really told the whole story: Tony lording over his partygoers in the Iron Man suit, clutching a bottle of champagne. Then shots of Tony fighting _another_ suit, the silver Mark II. The news reports were saying that was _Rhodey_?

Then there was the blurry phone footage: the two suits throwing each other through walls, falling through the roof, duelling it out in the shattered mansion downstairs kitchen. Their eyes glowed and Maggie could tell they were shouting at each other, though she couldn't make out the words.

The red Iron Man suit slammed the other through a countertop, then turned to face the camera - to where the partygoers stood, gawping and filming. Then he hunched over and _roared_ at them, like some kind of monster.

The footage cut out.

Maggie didn't hear her name when the barista called it. Her eyes were fixed on her phone screen as she scrolled, her heart pounding.

_Terrified partygoers… reports of an explosion at Stark Mansion… an Iron Man suit seized by Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes… Stark Industries CEO Pepper Potts unavailable for comment…_

Maggie felt utterly, utterly cold. _I wasn't there._ She didn't understand how this had _happened_. Tony and Rhodey fighting? It felt as if the world had flipped upside down overnight.

But… Maggie saw now that the signs had been there. Tony pushing her away, his strange, sudden decisions, the shadows under his eyes. _Something is seriously wrong_.

"Ms Stark?" came a loud voice.

Maggie flinched and looked up, tearing her eyes off her screen, to see the barista holding up her coffee with an expectant look. "Sorry." She hurried over to take it.

The barista shook her head. "No worries. Hope everything's okay." From the depth to her expression, Maggie knew that this barista had read the morning's news.

She grimaced and walked out, juggling coffee, croissant and phone. But her stomach churned, and she doubted she'd be able to eat anything. She walked back down the street slowly, staring straight ahead, the images and reports buzzing in her mind.

But then, even in her state of shock, she sensed it. _Something is wrong here._ She kept her pace measured, but allowed her senses to expand outward, across the street and to the buildings around her. _What is it?_ What had caused her sudden prickle of anxiety?

A moment later she caught it: on the other side of the road, a man wearing a large hat and sunglasses walked past. He'd also walked past her on her way to the coffee shop. Twice. Maggie's skin prickled and her fingers tightened incrementally on her coffee cup as she considered her options-

But then - "Happy?" Maggie blurted out his name the second she recognized him, and stopped in her tracks. The man on the other side of the road hunched his shoulders and continued walking away, but Maggie knew that build and that gait anywhere. She dashed across the road, which was near empty given the early hour, and caught up with the man easily. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

"Happy, what are you doing here?"

Because it was him, sure enough. Happy wore his usual black suit, with a thick coat over it, sunglasses, and a felt cap. He smiled awkwardly at her and took a few steps back.

"Happy?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking anywhere but her. And Maggie put it together - the strange clothes were an attempt at a disguise, and that was _guilt_ on his face.

"You were following me," she realized.

"Maggie-" he began, apologetically.

Her teeth ground together. "Tony _told_ you to follow me."

He winced as he pulled off the ridiculous hat. "I've just been keeping an eye on your apartment, he didn't mean-"

"Maybe you should be watching _Tony_ instead, Happy, so he doesn't do shit like _this_ ," Maggie hissed, grabbing her phone and shoving the news headlines in his face.

Happy scanned the headline and the picture of the dueling suits, and his face fell. His crushed expression melted Maggie's flare of anger.

She took a deep breath and stepped back. "No, I'm sorry," she said, before he could get out a word. "You did what Tony asked you to do, you couldn't have stopped this." She took another deep breath - _in, out_. It all crashed down on her: Tony battling Rhodey in a suit in their _home_ , the fight they'd had earlier, the secrets and the painful, glacial way they kept falling apart. She set her shoulders. "Right. This ends now."

Happy's eyes widened. "Maggie, what are you-"

But she was already running back across the street.

Maggie had her phone to her ear by the time she'd stormed toward her motorcycle in her building's garage. The call connected straight to the secure line to J.A.R.V.I.S.

She didn't let him get out his usual polite greeting. "J.A.R.V.I.S.," she grit out as she tugged on her riding gloves, "you're going to give me Tony's location right now or-"

" _I have just sent his coordinates to your phone, Ms Stark_."

Maggie blinked. "Oh, I really thought I was going to have to convince you."

" _I believe it is in Sir's best interests for you to speak with him_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said diplomatically.

"Alright then," she replied, swinging one leg over the bike and reaching for her helmet. "Cheers, J." Her phone dinged as he sent the coordinates through, and she checked the screen. "What on earth is he doing _there_?"

* * *

Randy's Donuts, Inglewood

Maggie screeched into the donut store car park on her motorbike.

She really should have noticed the suited men and women guarding the perimeter of the empty donut store, but she'd been thinking over the footage from last night and Happy spying on her on the drive over, and she was _incensed._ She tore her helmet off as she parked and stormed toward the door, her hands balled into fists.

The agents maintaining the perimeter certainly noticed Maggie, but only just managed to get an _incoming_ transmission into their commpieces before she burst through the door and shouted:

"You're spying on me now?"

The minute the words left her mouth, Maggie paused.

Tony was in there alright, sitting in a yellow booth in the Iron Man armor, nursing a cardboard cup of coffee. But he wasn't alone: he sat across the table from a black man with an eye patch, and Natalie Rushman, who wore some kind of tactical suit. The Iron Man helmet sat on the table between them. All three people glanced over at Maggie's shout and now stared at her - Tony with something like panic, and the other two with carefully even expressions.


	22. Chapter Twenty One

The air smelled like cinnamon and coffee.

Maggie knew the look of intelligence people, and she'd have bet her wings that this was SHIELD. _Weirdness confirmed,_ she thought, sparing a glance to appreciate how good Rushman looked in black. _Focus, Maggie_.

She opened and closed her mouth, frozen in the doorway of the donut shop. "You know what, you guys look busy so I'm just going to-" she turned around to walk out again, but then finally noticed the agents surrounding the store. They'd closed the perimeter, and one of them set a hand on her bike.

"Just a minute, Ms Stark," called the imposing eyepatch-man sitting across from Tony. "We'd like to chat with you, too."

Gritting her teeth, Maggie turned around. Tony's deer-in-headlights look fell off his face and he turned on the other man. "Nuh uh, you leave her out of this-"

"Well you see, normally I would," said the other man shrewdly. "Like our last chat." He shot a knowing glance at Tony, and Maggie's eyes narrowed despite her pounding heart. _Tony's met with SHIELD before?_ "But you're not the only one keeping secrets, Mr Stark."

Maggie's heart skipped a beat even as she frowned at Tony. The door slowly closed behind her. _Secrets_? She met Tony's eye, and he wore an expression of guilt and confusion that matched what she felt.

Maggie steadied herself, then glanced at Rushman and the guy who seemed to be in charge here. "And who are you?"

The man smiled at her. "Let's not pretend you don't know."

She met his one, glinting eye. "Well I don't actually know what your name is?"

He eyed her for a long, uncomfortable moment, as Rushman and Tony glanced between them, before he finally said: "I'm Director Nick Fury, and this is Agent Natasha Romanoff. We're with SHIELD, as you well know. But I think the real question here, Ms Stark, is _who are you_?"

Maggie pushed down her rising panic and simply arched an eyebrow. "I don't know what you-"

Fury cut in: "I assume you're both aware that siblings share 50% of their DNA?" he glanced between Maggie at the door, and Tony in his seat, as if he were teaching a science class.

Tony and Maggie shared a bewildered look.

Fury kept talking, his eyes on Tony. "We don't have _everyone_ 's DNA in SHIELD's databases, but we do have yours, Mr Stark. Agent Romanoff stole one of your blood samples last week for analysis."

"Great," Tony grit out.

"Uh, why?" Maggie added.

Fury ignored her. "But you see I'm wondering, Mr Stark, if I compared your blood to this blood sample collected from a rooftop in Tbilisi" - he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a small vial of congealed red blood. Maggie's eyes closed. "What would it tell me?"

Bewildered, Tony blinked at the blood. "I'm way too hungover for this. What the hell are you talking about now?"

"You really don't know," Fury said wonderingly, his head cocked. He turned back to Maggie. "Ms Stark?"

Maggie opened her eyes. She met Fury's knowing eye, then Rushman's - Romanoff's - cool stare. For another second she thought about playing dumb. But DNA didn't lie. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at her feet. "Shit," she muttered to herself, unable to think of a way out. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Rookie mistake," Romanoff said with a small smirk. "Leaving your DNA at the scene."

Maggie scowled at the red-haired spy. "I wasn't expecting to get shot."

Romanoff cocked her head. "Like I said - rookie mistake. The agent whose jaw you broke says hi, by the way."

Tony held up a hand. "Wait, shot?" he glanced from Maggie to Fury, and back. "Broken jaw? What the hell is happening?"

Maggie let out a sigh, then finally moved. She strode up to the mustard yellow booth and made a _scoot_ motion with her hand at Tony. He blinked at her for a second before sliding up the booth, the armor whirring and squeaking on the plastic. He looked rough, with shadows under his eyes and a pale tint to his skin. He kept touching the side of his neck, as if it hurt.

When there was room for her she slipped into the booth beside Tony. She couldn't meet his eye. Everyone looked expectantly at her. She felt very suddenly underdressed, in her jeans and shirt, before shaking away the thought. _Oh well, hopefully prison is nice._

She sighed, and gestured at Fury. "Go on, then."

He smirked, and reached into his jacket once more to produce a small screen - a Stark tablet, she realized. As Fury tapped a few buttons on it, Tony leaned into Maggie with a whir of his armor.

"What's going on, exactly?"

She still couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Here we are," said Fury, and turned the tablet around. Maggie didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't this: the image on the tablet showed a desert landscape, with a small crowd of women in cloth head coverings embracing family members in the foreground, and in the distance on a hill: a winged silhouette, watching over them. The picture was hazy, but the wings glinted in the sunlight. Maggie was too slow to stop the flash of recognition and surprise that crossed her face.

"For some time now, SHIELD has been trying to figure out a mystery." Fury raised his eyebrows at Tony. "You see, there's a rumor in the intelligence community about a lone operative. An operative you can turn to if you need to find the unfindable. Those in the know even know how to hire this person. _This_ is the only known image we have of them." He tapped the winged silhouette. "It all began with a man named Andrew Choque."

Fury tilted the screen, finding another image, before turning it around to show them a newspaper cover from the day of Choque's arrest. _INTERNATIONAL NARCOTICS SMUGGLER INDICTED,_ read the headline. In the mugshot, Choque glowered sourly at the camera. Maggie fought down more surprise at the mention of his name, and the sight of his face. Choque had indeed been her first proper Wyvern case - how did SHIELD know so much? Her stomach writhed.

Fury cleared his throat, explaining mostly for Tony's benefit, who listened with a furrowed brow. "Choque is bad news, a drug runner and human trafficker, not to mention a murderer. So when the FBI got an information dump about his location and the local police found him sedated and locked inside a hotel room, things seemed suspiciously easy."

Tony's frown deepened: "I don't-"

"It took off from there," Fury continued, with the air of a teacher. He was _enjoying_ this, and Romanoff smiled unsettlingly by his side. Fury swiped through more images: targets, newspaper headlines. " _Literally_ took off, I mean. More bad-news people kept popping up on the grid, incapacitated and ready for arrest, along with a very helpful information packet on their recent dealings. Extremists, weapons traffickers, abusers, anyone who preyed on the helpless. In the space of a year, the operative behind this pattern had established themselves as one of the foremost private intelligence operatives in the world, and given themself a name: the Wyvern."

The hair on Maggie's arms stood up at the sound of her name, her _other_ name, spoken aloud. Spoken in front of Tony, who was looking at Fury as if he'd lost his mind.

Romanoff cleared her throat, her eyes on Maggie. "To cut a long story short, the Wyvern made a name for herself. She took down a Ten Rings base by herself last year," Fury found a new picture, this time of a smoking base in the Tajikistan mountains, "and stopped an illegal shipment of Stark Industries weapons that Obadiah Stane ordered," the screen changed to General Rowes's mugshot, as he scowled through a black eye. "And has run dozens of missions since. Still, no one knew much about the Wyvern. Other than that she flies on a pair of metal wings."

"I think the thing about the red eyes is pretty distinctive too," Fury said conversationally, and flicked the screen again - this time landing on what looked like a police artist's depiction of the Wyvern - not much more than a black silhouette with wide metal wings, and red eyes in a concealed face. The details weren't quite right, but the sight of it set Maggie's heart pounding at a painful pace. Fury leaned back in the booth. "Funny, we kept wondering how a lone operative could have tech that hadn't been seen on the market before, and seemingly limitless funds. We thought there must be an organization behind the Wyvern. But it turns out it really was just _one_ person."

Tony glanced from the picture to Maggie, then back again, still frowning deeply. _He doesn't get it yet._ Maggie wanted to sink below the table.

Fury crossed his arms. "So we thought we'd set up a meet a few days ago. Lay a few clues about one of the Wyvern's targets, and wait for her to show up. Turns out the Wyvern didn't want to talk." He dangled the blood vial again.

Maggie's heartbeat roared in her ears. She should have expected something like this, should have had a plan for what to say if someone confronted her. But she'd been living separate lives so long that the sensation of them crashing together threatened to turn her stomach.

Tony spoke instead. He stared at Fury, glanced back at Maggie, then the tablet with the now scrolling photos, and then back to Fury. "Wait, wait," he held up an armored hand. "You're saying this is _Maggie_? That's crazy!"

Fury levelled Tony with an unimpressed look, then turned to Maggie expectantly. Tony stared at Fury for a few seconds more before he turned to Maggie with a half-smile, as if expecting her to refute it all. She looked from the pictures, then to Tony, opening and closing her mouth. She wasn't sure what her expression revealed to him. Panic, probably, since that was all she could feel coursing up and down her spine. She had the sudden instinct to _run_.

When Tony realized Maggie wasn't going to deny it, the half smile dropped off his face. He stared at her with an intensity she'd forgotten he could possess, his eyes wide and panicked. "No," he said.

She still could not speak.

"This is what you've been so cagey about?" he said in a higher octave. "This is why you've got the bruises, and-and the burns, and the… the _bullet wounds_?" he ran his eyes over her as if expecting her to keel over right that minute.

Maggie felt all their eyes on her, Tony and Romanoff and Fury, and her skin crawled with it. Her stomach flipped and sank and rose like a ship at sea, threatening to have her throw up right there on the table. She couldn't handle the panic in Tony's eyes, the fear. _This is what I've been trying to protect him from._

But he deserved her answers. After all these years of lies, he deserved it. She realized, in that moment, that she'd avoided telling him out of fear that it would be the end of any relationship they had. That he would see her for all she was - the lying, secretive vigilante with a heart of vengeance - and turn his back on her.

She swallowed, then looked up to meet Tony's eyes. "Okay, so, um… have you ever seen _Dexter?_ "

Tony stilled. " _Maggie_ , tell me you aren't-"

She held up her hands, frowning. _I wish I'd had time to plan this._ "Okay, not a great example to start with seeing as I haven't actually, uh, seen _Dexter_ , and I'm not killing people, but I know the general premise. I'm not serial-killing serial killers, I'm just… kidnapping bad guys. I'm a bounty hunter!" _There's that point I was trying to get at._

Tony ran a hand over his face. "Like Boba Fett? Are you kidding me right now?"

She shot him an offended glare. "I have _wings_ , not a jetpack. And anyway, I think I'm much more of a Han Solo than a Boba Fett."

Fury and Romanoff glanced between Maggie and Tony, looking bewildered and annoyed.

High pitched and panicked, Tony replied: "Han Solo wasn't a bounty hunter."

"Not _really,_ but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm a Boba Fett in occupation, but I have Han-Solo-eque tendencies of changing the plan to do the right thing and help people and save Hogwarts. If that makes sense."

"It doesn't."

"Well I usually don't even get paid, so-"

Tony threw up his hands. "So you're not even a _bounty_ hunter! Maggie if this is some kind of joke I swear-"

Fury looked deeply unimpressed. "I think we're getting a little off-track-"

Maggie rallied herself and turned fully to face Tony, blocking Fury and Romanoff out. "Okay, I can… so I built the wings," she said. "And then I realized that I could help people. I'm good at getting information, and finding people. At first I was just doing that, but then I realized that with the wings… I could do it myself. Keep people from getting hurt." She shrugged. "It just sort of happened." Then she laughed under her breath. "When you came back and told me about building your suit of armor, you have no _idea_ how much I understood."

Tony sat there, staring at her, processing. "You're a bounty hunter who doesn't get bounties. With _wings._ Maggie… how long have you been doing this?"

She swallowed. "I don't know when it really started. But I suppose when…" _when I promised the Winter Soldier that he was my mission._ "When I left. The first time."

He looked ashen. "That was _four years ago_. You were _twenty_. You're only twenty three now!" It seemed to be sinking in for him now. She caught the first spark of anger in his eyes.

Maggie pushed back the threat of prickling tears. "Tony, I… I am _so sorry_ I didn't tell you. At first I didn't because I thought you wouldn't understand, and then… with Afghanistan, and Obie, I didn't want to give you more to worry about, and then I'd been keeping the secret too long and I…" her voice caught and she looked down, frowning. "Those are just excuses. I… I'm sorry."

She couldn't look into Tony's face any more but she could _feel_ him staring at her.

On the other side of the table, Romanoff touched a hand to her earpiece, then leaned toward Fury and murmured something. He nodded, then cleared his throat.

"Believe it or not," he said, drawing Tony and Maggie's attention, "We're not actually here to break long-held family secrets. Ms Stark, we will deal with the Wyvern later. Mr Stark, you want to share what we're really here for?"

Tony glanced back at Fury then away, out the window. Maggie frowned. Beneath the booth table, her hands were shaking.

Fury leaned forward. "He might still be cross at us, given we injected him with lithium dioxide just before you arrived."

Maggie still felt raw and exposed, but _that_ caught her attention. "Uh, why?"

Romanoff answered: "It eases the symptoms of Palladium poisoning."

For a second Maggie only frowned. But then realization hit.

It felt as if she'd been suddenly cast in ice, as if she'd looked into the eyes of Medusa and been turned to stone. And in that frozen stillness, she saw the whole picture far too clearly: the shadows under Tony's eyes. The way he seemed to be getting older, folding in on himself. The smoothies - chlorophyll, she now realized. The strange decisions. Pushing her away. And the Arc Reactor, _of course_ , powered by Palladium; Maggie _knew_ the compound was corrosive, but she hadn't thought about how closely Tony was linked to the reactor, how it powered his very heart. And she…

_I have been such a colossal fool._

She turned to Tony slowly, her eyes wide and barely able to focus on one thing. This time, it was he who couldn't meet her eyes.

"How bad is it?" she whispered.

After a long moment, he met her gaze. "Last time I checked, my blood toxicity was at 89%."

Maggie felt as if the booth seat had been yanked out from under her. Her breath was certainly yanked from her chest, and she had to steady herself against the table with one hand. She might not be an expert on Palladium's impact on the body, but she knew what a figure like that meant: Tony didn't have months, or weeks. He barely had days. 72 hours at most, she'd guess.

Tears sprang to her eyes and Tony looked away. She didn't have to ask why he hadn't told her. He didn't want to see her like this.

Past the roaring in her ears she heard Romanoff speak; not tauntingly, anymore. She explained how Tony had given the company to Pepper, the suit to Rhodey, and rewritten his will recently: leaving everything else to Maggie. The house, J.A.R.V.I.S., the robots, the other Iron Man suits.

Once had Maggie had enough breath to speak, she murmured: "Tony."

Sitting in his red and gold armor, his face gaunt, Tony avoided her eyes. So she put her hand over his metal gauntlet, and he finally looked up to meet her gaze. She didn't know what to say, so she just searched his face. She saw the weariness there.

 _All this time, he knew death was coming for him. He's been trying to say goodbye._ And she'd been pushing him away.

"You're not going to die," she said firmly.

Tony just smiled tiredly, but across the table Fury nodded.

"That's what we've decided."

Tony's tiredness turned to annoyance. "You can't just _decide-_ "

"Yes," Maggie interrupted. "I can."

Fury smiled briefly at the determination in her expression, as if he'd been hoping for it. "The lithium dioxide will take the edge off. We're trying to get him back to work."

"Sure, give me a couple boxes of the stuff, I'll be right as rain," Tony murmured, utterly unconvincing.

"It's not a cure," Romanoff said smoothly. "Just abates the symptoms."

Fury leaned forward, eyeing Tony's neck. "Doesn't look like it's going to be an easy fix." Maggie stretched forward to follow his gaze - and finally spotted what he'd been hiding from her for months. Thin, dark blue lines snaked up the side of his neck, glinting dully. Like metal. She realized this was why he had been pushing her away: because he could no longer hide this with shirt collars.

"Trust me I know, I'm good at this stuff," Tony said tiredly. "I've been looking for a suitable replacement to Palladium-"

"Why didn't you ask for my help?" Maggie breathed.

Fury raised his eyebrows. "That's a fair question."

"I didn't want you to worry," Tony said under his breath. "And if I couldn't figure it out, then you probably couldn't."

Maggie drew herself up. "Okay I'm offended by that insinuation-"

"Stupid to be offended by the truth," Tony snarked, even though he was confessing to his imminent death.

"You _ass_ , even if I couldn't help, you should have told me!" she exploded. "Of course I'd want to know, I'd want to try to help even if I-" she cut herself off, angry and knowing she had no right to lecture about secrecy. But her nerves were alight with fear. She looked to Fury and Romanoff. "You think you can help him?"

"We think he can help _himself_ ," Fury responded. "And we think you can help as well."

Tony sighed. "I've tried every combination looking for a substitution, every permutation of every known element."

Fury cocked his head and smiled. "Well I'm here to tell you, you haven't tried them all."

Shortly afterward, Romanoff put her hand to her earpiece again and frowned. Apparently SHIELD could no longer hold the donut shop perimeter, so Tony and Maggie were escorted outside.

"We'll drive you back to your place and talk there," Fury said, gesturing to a dark sedan with tinted windows.

Maggie glanced over to her bike, parked haphazardly near the door. "Oh, but my-"

"We'll handle your bike," Romanoff cut her off, heading for a different car.

Maggie looked mournfully after her bike as she slid into the back seat of the sedan. Tony got in the other side, clunky in his armor. Fury sat in the front seat.

The ride back to the mansion was utterly silent. Maggie sat with her hands clasped in her lap, looking downward. Tony looked out the window, watching the city slide past.

But the air inside the car was loud with thoughts and unspoken questions. Maggie could _feel_ Tony thinking. But she knew they'd both rather wait until they no longer had an audience.

* * *

Hammer Industries Headquarters, New York

Justin Hammer tried to contain his frustration as he looked from the suit Vanko had made - not a suit, since there wasn't any room for a _pilot_ \- and back to Vanko. "I need to put a person in that suit, you understand?"

Vanko shrugged. "Drone better."

"Drone better? Why is drone better?"

"People make problem," Vanko said, admiring his stupid bird. "Trust me, drone better."

After another tense, irritating minute of Vanko's glib replies, Hammer leaned in and hissed: "These drones better _steal the show_ , Ivan." He strode away, trying to shake off the frustration. "You understand? Better rock my world, Ivan."

* * *

Edwards Air Force Base, California

"Good work Colonel, you've made your country proud," said the General, saluting Rhodey with a smile. _He_ at least seemed happy. But after hearing that _Hammer_ would be coming in to fit out the silver Mark II armor, Rhodey was not. And though he knew Tony had left him with no other choice than to take the suit, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

"Thank you sir." He sighed as the General turned and left.

Everyone else in the hangar was staring at him, murmuring to each other like they did whenever Tony visited. Rhodey had known when he showed up in that armor that nothing would be the same again.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Glad of the reprieve, he pulled it out and checked it. A text from Maggie:

_I'm handling it. You're an ass for taking the Mark II, but I understand why you did it._

Rhodey sighed again. He didn't know what _handling it_ meant when it came to Maggie. But whatever it was, Tony probably deserved it.

* * *

Stark Mansion, California

Maggie barely noticed when they pulled up outside the house, too caught up in her own thoughts. She'd managed to send off a quick text to Rhodey, at least.

But then her door opened, and she glanced up to see that Fury had opened it for her. Tony had already climbed out of his door, and was being escorted inside by agents. He needed to get the armor off.

"Congratulations, Ms Stark," Fury said as she climbed out of the car, blinking in the sunlight.

"Did I win something?" she asked. She let the sifting ocean breeze wash over her skin.

"It's not often that I'm surprised," Fury confessed. She could feel his one eye on her. "You managed that today. So congratulations." She glanced at him, and he levelled a _look_ at her. "It won't happen again."

"If you say so," she shrugged. She eyed him back. "What are you going to do? Now that you know the truth?"

"For now, I'm tasking you on this mission with Mr Stark," he said, hands clasped behind his back as he ran an eye over the ocean view. "SHIELD will run an assessment and debrief you later, once we have more information."

"I don't work for you," she retorted, slightly offended.

"No, you don't," he agreed. "If you did, you'd be getting paid. Regardless, you are on SHIELD's radar in a _big_ way now, Ms Stark. And we have a common interest. Keeping that one" - he jerked his head at the mansion - "alive. So get on the mission, Wyvern."

* * *

Once Fury's SHIELD agents had cleared the mansion and established a perimeter, they let Maggie inside.

She hurried through the front foyer with its smattering of party decorations and made a beeline for her bedroom to oh-so-casually check that the lockbox under her bed was untouched. Reassured, she strode out and bumped into Tony in the corridor outside. There was a moment of awkward silence. He'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and a shirt, and pulled on an embroidered robe which made him look like a fashion runway reject. He was flanked by two SHIELD agents.

"If you'll make your way downstairs, Mr and Ms Stark," said one of the agents, touching his earpiece.

Tony and Maggie made eye contact. Neither of them much liked being bossed around in their own house. But they obeyed, turning and heading to the stairs in unison.

"So did you really get shot?" Tony asked.

She glanced at him. She'd expected more anger than this. "The bullet barely went in, you don't need to worry," she reassured.

But Tony's face just went white.

Sighing, Maggie pulled up the side of her t-shirt, revealing the adhesive wound dressing which she re-applied to the side of her abdomen each morning. "Really, it's just a pain having to clean it all the time," she said as she peeled down the corner of the dressing.

Tony stopped walking and peered at the wound she'd just bared to him, grimacing. Two small, stitched-up openings in her skin, stained slightly orange from the antiseptic wash she used, already healing.

"Gross," was all Tony said after a moment of examination. One of the SHIELD agents cleared his throat, so Maggie reapplied the wound dressing and they walked on.

It was at the stairs that Maggie remembered all that had happened in the mansion last night. The glass wall around the staircase had been completely shattered, glinting on the ground like ice. Tony went tense and quiet, and Maggie _stared_. They kept walking, and her eyes tracked from disaster to disaster: a hole through the wall from the dancefloor to the gym, the wood and plaster broken through like cardboard. There was a hole in the roof of the gym, from which sifted fine concrete powder. If Maggie had the blueprints right in her head, _that_ hole led up to Tony's bedroom. There were scorchmarks on the walls and dents in the floor and ceiling.

They walked downstairs to the entertaining area that led to the main balcony, and Maggie stopped in her tracks. The whole area was _trashed_. There was another hole in the ceiling, larger this time, and the walls, floor, and ceiling were scorched as if a bomb had gone off. The entire area was littered with shattered glass, chunks of concrete, and upturned tables and chairs. A seagull pecked at a fallen plate of appetizers on what used to be a low coffee table.

Fury waited in the middle of the debris, his hands behind his back and his eye on them, with the serene backdrop of the glittering ocean behind him.

" _Tony_ ," Maggie gaped, staring around.

He winced. "I know, I know. I'll fix it."

"Home decor should be lower down the priority list," Fury suggested. "Let's pull up some chairs."

Tony and Fury found a pair of metal wire chairs and set them in the shattered glass just inside what _used_ to be the entertainment room, with the wide open balcony before them. Maggie pulled up a suntanning chair and sat on it, cross-legged. There were SHIELD agents everywhere, watching every angle and guarding every entrance and exit. There were three on the balcony, with binoculars. One of them had found a pitcher of water and some glasses, and set them on a small table between where Tony, Fury, and Maggie sat.

For a few moments they all sat there in the ruins of the entertainment space, illuminated by the warm California sun, all of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Maggie looked out to sea, unable to catch onto a single thought and complete it.

Finally, Fury turned to Tony. "That thing in your chest is based on unfinished technology."

Maggie dragged her gaze back, frowning, but Tony answered: "No, it was finished. It's never been particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my-"

"No," Fury cut him off calmly. "Howard said the Arc Reactor was the stepping stone to something greater."

"You knew him?" Maggie interjected, leaning forward. The tanning chair creaked beneath her.

Fury raised his eyebrows. "Yes. He was about to kick off an energy race that was going to dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big that it was going to make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery," he finished with a smile.

"Just him?" Tony asked, pouring himself a glass of water. "Or was Anton Vanko in on this too?"

Maggie's eyes narrowed. _Vanko._ Related to the assailant at Monaco?

"Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin," Fury explained. "Anton saw it as a way to get rich. When your father found out, he had him deported." Maggie's eyebrows raised. Tony didn't seem shocked; he must have kept everything he'd learned the past few days from Maggie. "When the Russians found out he couldn't deliver, they shipped his ass off to Siberia and he spent the next 20 years in a vodka-fuelled rage." Fury cocked his head. "Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in, the son you had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Monaco," he added, raising his water glass to Tony.

"So Monaco was what, revenge?" Maggie surmised. "A way to get back at the man who deported his father, by kicking Tony's ass with the very same tech."

"He said as much when I spoke to him," Tony shrugged. Maggie's eyes narrowed further, but he moved on quickly, turning to Fury. "You told me I hadn't tried everything. What do you mean I haven't tried everything? What haven't I tried?"

"Howard said that _you_ were the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started," Fury told Tony. His eye darted to Maggie. "He told me this before you were even a twinkle in his eye."

She just frowned.

"He said that," Tony uttered sceptically.

"Mhm," Fury nodded. "Are you that guy? Hm? Are you?" He leaned forward. "Because if you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart."

Maggie watched Tony slowly shake his head. "I don't know where you're getting your information, but… he wasn't my biggest fan." His eyes darted toward her.

"What do you remember about your dad?" Fury pressed.

Maggie loosed a breath and leaned back in her chair.

"He was cold," Tony shot back, sounding more tired than angry. "He was calculating. He never told me loved me, he never even told me he _liked_ me, so it's a little tough for me to digest when you're telling me he said the whole future was riding on me, and he's passing it down - I don't get that." He glanced back at Maggie, almost guilty, and Fury followed his gaze.

She sighed. "I was young, but… yeah. I don't…" she thought about it. "I don't have a single memory of him where he was smiling." The image of dad's red, pulped face flashed over her eyes and she had to fight not to flinch.

Tony gestured at her, as if to say _see?_ "You're talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he had another kid who'd be less of a screwup." Maggie's gaze softened, but he didn't meet her eyes again.

"That's not true," Fury told them.

Tony leaned back. "Well, then clearly you knew our dad better than we did."

Fury finished his water, and Maggie was distracted by the sight of two SHIELD agents walking onto the balcony, carrying a silver lockbox. "As a matter of fact I did," he told them. "He was one of the founding members of SHIELD."

Maggie's head snapped back and at the same time she and Tony both exclaimed: " _What_?"

Fury checked his watch and got to his feet. "I've got a 2 o'clock."

Maggie and Tony both jumped to their feet as well.

"Hang on, what do you mean he _founded_ SHIELD?" Maggie burst out.

"Wait, wait," Tony said, hands out. He spotted the silver lockbox which the SHIELD agents had set on the ground. "What's this?"

"Okay you two are good, right?" Fury said, "You got this, right?"

"Got _what_?" Tony replied. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to get-"

"Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact," Fury informed them, gesturing to Romanoff as she appeared a few feet away. Maggie sensed another presence approaching from behind her, and looked over her shoulder to see - _son of a bitch._

Agent Coulson stood with his hands clasped in front of him and a pleasant smile on his face.

Fury pulled on his jacket. "And you remember Agent Coulson, right?"

Maggie grimaced, and Tony muttered: "Yeah."

Fury made for the exit. "Oh and Tony, Maggie?" He looked back. "Remember. I've got my eye on you." He stared at them for a moment, a hint of amusement on his face, and then disappeared around the corner.

Tony and Maggie stared after him, and then shared a glance.

"We've disabled all communications," came Romanoff's even voice, and they both looked to her. "No contact with the outside world." Tony and Maggie shared another glance. _Sure_. "Good luck," Romanoff smiled, before she too turned to leave.

They turned to Coulson, who still stood there with that ever-present smile. Maggie stared him down, but then Tony began running his mouth, asking for coffee, and Coulson politely explained that he was there to keep them both on premises.

Maggie's mind buzzed. _Why did Dad never tell us about SHIELD?_ Because if she'd known… Maggie had been struggling with secrets her whole life. Maybe SHIELD could have helped her. Why was she kept from it?

Coulon leveled a glance at Tony, then leaned over to look at Maggie as well. "If you attempt to leave, or play any games, I will tase you and watch _Supernanny_ while you drool into the carpet. Okay?"

"I think I got it," Tony grimaced.

Coulson stepped past Tony and came up to face Maggie directly. "I'll hand it to you, Ms Stark, you know how to keep a secret. When we met in Peru I thought you were a rich girl on the run."

"When you met _where_?" Tony questioned, but Coulson ignored him. Maggie shifted.

"You'll have to show me your wings sometime," he continued. "You were making those in Manaus, right?" She smiled, but said nothing. "And in the meantime… you might be good at keeping secrets, but I don't imagine this has been an easy one to carry." His eyes flicked to Tony. "You might consider sharing."

After a moment of eye contact, Coulson turned and walked off. "Enjoy your evening's entertainment."

Maggie and Tony were left alone on the scorched balcony, save for a few SHIELD agents and the silver case Fury had left behind. Black letters emblazoned on top read: _PROPERTY OF H. STARK._

Maggie strode past the case and to the edge of the balcony, where she set her hands on the edge, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath. The sun warmed her face, but did not ease her whirling thoughts.

After a few moments, footsteps crunching in glass announced that Tony had walked up to stand beside her. For a few moments she enjoyed the silence, the knowledge that he was there beside her. There weren't many people she could be quiet with. And he didn't seem impatient, she couldn't feel tension rolling off him in waves. As if he was enjoying the moment too, looking out over the water.

But the silence had to break. They were on a time limit.

She opened her eyes. The light bouncing off the water hurt her eyes. "I lied to you," she said without looking at him. "For years. I didn't even… I didn't even feel very bad about it, until recently." She swallowed the guilt. "I didn't want that world to touch you. I wanted to protect you from all of it, from me. And then it reached out and grabbed you anyway."

Tony sighed tiredly. "Tell me why."

She knew what he meant. "Because… because I could. Because I saw that I could help the people who needed help, and stop the people who needed stopping. Isn't that why you became Iron Man?"

He didn't answer her. After another long moment he murmured: "We've both kept so many secrets from each other. We've both lied, so much." He let out a long breath.

Maggie closed her eyes again. The weight of their hidden lives hung between them.

"And now," she said eventually, "it turns out we might have learned that from Dad." They turned in unison, looking back at the case that read _PROPERTY OF H. STARK._

"Yeah," Tony murmured. He rested his elbows on the edge of the balcony. "You have any idea what eyepatch there was on about?"

"No. I was only five, Tony."

"Yeah."

Maggie straightened, then finally turned to face her brother. He looked exhausted and downtrodden in his fancy robe. "So."

He met her gaze. "So."

She held out her hand. "I don't want to lie to you anymore. I don't want to keep my secrets to myself. I want to tell you everything, when we have time. I want to help you with this, I want to save your life and figure out what Dad was keeping secret. I don't expect you to forgive me for what I've done," she said heavily, "but I think it's time we started working on the same team." Her gaze dropped. "Things are better when we're on the same team."

She felt Tony eyeing her for a long moment, his focus intense. And then he took her hand. "That sounds pretty damn good to me."

She looked up, grinning, and a second later he tugged her into a hug. His robe crinkled under her grip, and his arms banded around her, stronger than she expected.

"And I do forgive you, Maggot," Tony sighed. "I might not completely understand yet, and I might be furious at you for a while, but I do forgive you."

She gripped fistfuls of his robe. "I won't let you die."

When they finally pulled apart, Tony eyed her. "So. Wyvern, huh?"

"Yeah, I… I don't know if you remember my old call sign-"

"Dragon," he said without missing a beat. She grinned. "We are going to have _so_ many more talks about you being a vigilante bounty hunter, because _holy shit_ , and your _wings_ , but for now…" his gaze drifted back to the case. "Let's get to work."

"Sounds good."

* * *

The Triskelion, Washington D.C.

Clint pressed his phone to his ear, his eyes wide. "Coulson, hang on, say that again - the Wyvern is _who_?"


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

Edwards Air Force Base, California

Rhodey cast an eye over the array of weaponry on the table in front of him, and then up at Justin Hammer.

"I think I'll take it."

"Which one?" Hammer asked.

"All of it."

* * *

Stark Mansion, California

Down in the workshop, Tony set the PROPERTY OF H. STARK case down on a worktable while Maggie went into the kitchen to make them coffee - and grab one of Tony's chlorophyll smoothies from the fridge.

"So I know about the whole getting shot thing," Tony said in a carefully even voice. "But exactly how dangerous is this Wyvern stuff?"

Maggie sniffed the refrigerated green sludge and grimaced. "That's the first time I ever got shot, if that's what you're asking." She thought about all the times bullets had deflected off her wings, and yes, technically, she had gotten a minor slice from a bullet in Tajikistan, but those were just technicalities. "But…" she paced over. "What about Iron Man? You get hurt on missions sometimes. But it's worth it, isn't it?" She handed the smoothie to Tony.

He took it, eyeing her. "I don't like the idea of you in danger."

"And I don't like the idea of _you_ in danger," she shot back. Her eyes flickered to the reactor. "Or dying. Let's crack open that case."

Obliging, Tony reached forward, unclipped the fastenings and then opened the lid.

The case was almost full. Stacks of papers, a few film reels, a roll of blueprints, and what looked like a copy of the periodic table immediately jumped out at Maggie. Tony reached for the blueprints first, unrolling them to reveal the original Arc Reactor design. Maggie picked up the periodic table. Silently, they unpacked the case onto the floor. As Maggie spread a stack of photos on the carpet - including a portrait of dad - she spotted a map of the Arctic.

She tapped it. "Looking for Captain America."

Tony glanced over, his eyes dark. Their dad had gone on only one trip to the Arctic that Maggie remembered - he'd been gone for five months, and she'd heard his voice only once on the phone. But she knew he'd gone on many more expeditions throughout Tony's childhood.

Tony eyed the labels on the film reels as Maggie flicked through the old Stark Expo brochures, then a few dozen blue cards with handwritten notes.

"This is from the development of the Arc Reactor," Maggie realized as she scanned over the formulas. "Energy readouts, neutron moderations, reaction containment…" her finger traced over faded words. Her father's handwriting. "He's trying to solve the anomalous Zeeman effect here."

Tony looked up. "J.A.R.V.I.S., have we got a way of viewing these reels?"

" _Yes, sir._ "

Tony quizzed Maggie about her former Wyvern missions as they set up the projector, and she gave him the barebones details of targets, battles, and intelligence drops. But then the film reels started running - mostly old Stark Expo promotions, as well as a few TV interviews that Dad had done. Stunned into silence by the sight of their father before them, Tony and Maggie settled down to sift through the various notepads from the case.

Maggie sat cross legged on the floor with a pile of notecards and a notebook, all filled with dad's dark, cursive handwriting.

" _Everything is achievable through technology_ ," said dad on the projector screen, the same promotion that they'd played at the Expo earlier in the month.

Maggie was busy peering down at the old photographs - of early Arc Reactor designs, she realized. Not the big one at Stark Industries, but models. One of the designs was labelled _Tesseract Emulator,_ and she frowned. Tony leaned back in a chair, making notes on his phone as he read through another notepad. The notes told a story of pure invention - a brilliant mind throwing itself at a complex problem. Maggie couldn't imagine doing all of this work without the aid of a computer or holoscreen. Writing all this thinking out must have taken forever.

Rubbing her temples, she looked back up at the film. She'd seen this before at the Expo, but it still struck her how _young_ Dad looked. In that moment, a small boy appeared at the back of the frame, popping up from behind the model city display.

"Tony," Maggie murmured. He was small, dark haired, wearing a bright striped shirt and a gleeful smile.

The Tony sitting beside her did not look up. "Hm?"

The Howard on screen looked over his shoulder. " _Tony, what are you doing back there? What is that? Put it back_!"

Tony finally looked up at the film, but his expression didn't change as they watched Howard admonish his child.

" _Where's your mother? Maria_!"

Maggie's heart throbbed dully. She remembered this - not the exact moment, of course, but the tone. This relationship, this atmosphere… she remembered. She glanced at Tony, but he was still watching, his head tipped back and his eyes wary.

As the young Tony was carried offscreen by an assistant, Tony glanced over at Maggie. "Think Fury'd believe us if we showed him that?"

She sighed. "I don't know what Fury wants us to do here. All these notes… so far I'm not seeing anything particularly revolutionary. It shows Dad struggled with the design, and it looks like he wasn't certain what element to use, but-"

Tony nodded. "He's gone about the math in some strange ways. He's experimenting with hydrogen and zinc here." He tapped the notepad in his lap.

They both glanced back at the screen when their dad said:

" _So from all of us at Stark Industries, I'd like to personally show you… my ass_."

In silence, they watched Howard Stark lose his patience, waving off the producer who tried to walk on screen, and asking _we have this already, don't we?_

Tony gave up on his notebook and leaned over, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"There has to be something here," Maggie urged. She dragged the stack of notebooks toward herself. She'd already skimmed them, but… "something Dad was looking for, something we can find-"

" _Tony_."

They both looked up. Dad stood centre frame now, and his air was different - he'd lost the suit jacket, and now leaned back against the model of the City of the Future, his face… less forcefully pleasant. Still tired, but not so rigid.

" _You're too young to understand this right now,"_ he said, " _so I thought I would put it on film for you._ " He gestured to the model. " _I built this for you._ "

Maggie ran a hand over her mouth.

" _And someday you'll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people's inventions. It represents my life's work._ " The camera panned over the model, showing pavilions and parks. " _This is the key to the future._ " More shots of the model. Then a shot of one of the arc reactor models. " _I'm limited by the technology of my time. But one day you'll figure this out. And when you do… you will change the world._ "

Howard drew a breath. " _What is and always will be my greatest creation… is you._ "

Howard Stark _smiled_.

The reel reached the end of the film and the projector screen turned to flickering nothingness.

For what felt like hours, Tony and Maggie just stared at the screen. Though it had vanished, Maggie couldn't stop seeing that smile - a small thing, but it had completely changed their father's young face. She'd seen the smile before - on Tony's face. On her own.

Then Tony blurted: "I need to get out of here."

She glanced at him. "What? But-"

He shook his head, standing. "We're not getting anywhere with this, and I don't have much-" he didn't finish the sentence. "I need to go see Pepper. She's furious with me - rightfully - and I need to… I need to make things right."

Maggie sighed, then stood too. "Coulson said not to leave."

"You always do what Coulson tells you?"

"No. Never, actually." She bit her lip. She could still see dad's smile - grim and shadowed, but definitely a smile. "You should go, you're right. I'll make a distraction and cover for you so you can get out."

He nodded. "Thanks, Magnolia." He glanced around at the photos and notes at their feet. "What will you do while I'm out?"

She gestured. "I was _supposed_ to call some more donors about the Expo today, especially since stupid Hammer has his stupid exhibit tomorrow, but since we've been put on a communications blackout… I'll keep going through these notebooks, maybe get them digitized so J.A.R.V.I.S. can run an eye over them, so to speak. I'm sure there's something there, it's like… like not all the thinking is there. Like Dad was trying to hide something."

"Well it wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Tony said heavily. He turned, but then said: "Hang on, before I go. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole Wyvern thing, but… wings?"

She grinned. "I made myself a pair of metal wings a few years ago. They're awesome. I'll show them to you when you get back."

He blinked. "They're _here_?"

She nodded. "I take them with me most places I go. They're under my bed at the moment."

"I need to get more observant." Tony blew out a breath. "And also, before I leave you here alone with SHIELD, do they have it out for you or something? Fury mentioned they laid a trap for you, and the Agent seemed… weird."

She sighed and set her hands on her hips. "Coulson had some people watching me when I was down in South America, and he met with me himself in Peru to offer me a job, which I turned down. I guess they wanted to do the same for the Wyvern."

"Without realizing you're one and the same," Tony said with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"Yep. I don't think they have it out for me though, they're just…"

"Control freaks," he finished for her.

"Sure," she laughed.

"Fair warning," he said, "Fury tried to sign me up for some weird superhero saving-the-world club last year, I said no because let's face it, I'm not really the joining type, but he might spring that on you, too."

"Huh," Maggie frowned. She shook her head. "Now go get dressed. I'm going to cause a distraction in seven minutes and you need to be ready to drive out of here like a bat out of hell."

Maggie snuck down to the beach and set off a small explosion. It was a nice way to let off some of her pent up emotions, and when the SHIELD agents stormed down to the beach with their guns raised, she just put up her hands and said: "Sorry, just running a small demolitions test."

Coulson was down a moment later, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Where's Mr Stark?"

"He's making some more disgusting green smoothies," Maggie said, poking her bare toes into the blackened bit of sand she'd just made. "I'm recording this experiment for posterity."

Coulson escorted her back up to the house. "I hope I don't have to stress the gravity of this situation to you, Ms Stark. Or repeat my earlier threats."

"Trust me, Agent Coulson. I'm aware."

When Coulson figured out that Tony had disappeared, a full hour later, he came down to the workshop to yell at Maggie. But she just put a pair of headphones over her ears as she pored through her father's notes, and pretended she couldn't hear.

Thankfully, he didn't tase her.

* * *

Stark Industries, Los Angeles

Tony sat across from Pepper at her desk - or rather, his old desk - and put the box of strawberries he'd bought in front of her.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

"No." She could barely _look_ at him, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Come on, you just got off the phone. You're fine, 30 seconds."

Pepper glanced down at her watch. She looked pretty today, with her ginger hair up in a knot and a sleek grey dress that made her eyes look sharp. "Twenty nine, twenty eight…"

Tony straightened. "Okay I, um, I was just driving over here… and I thought I was coming to basically apologize, but I'm not-"

"Oh, you _didn't_ come here to apologize?" she asked with a dangerous note in her voice.

"Look, that goes without saying, and I'm working on that-"

"Where's Maggie?" Pepper interrupted him. "She's not returning my calls."

"She's back at the mansion actually, you want to come see her?"

"Not if you'll be there," she replied evenly.

_Ouch._

The flinty steel in Pepper's eyes softened ever so slightly. "She's safe?"

"Of course, why wouldn't she be safe?" Tony questioned.

"Happy said there was an… altercation." Her eyebrow arched. "I'm worried about her."

"She's…" he leaned back in his chair. He was still coming to terms with everything he'd learned. He'd been hurt at first when he realized the magnitude of her secret, even though he understood why she hadn't told him. And it was a lot to wrap his head around. But… it also made _sense._ It seemed to fill in the picture of Maggie he had in his head, explaining the secrets and the injuries and the way she seemed so much older, so much more self assured, than she should be. Frankly, his life was already weird enough. Why not have a vigilante sister with metal wings? He still couldn't quite picture her _bounty hunting_ , let alone _flying_ , but…

He'd let the silence go on too long. "She can handle herself."

"Seems she's been doing that her whole life," Pepper remarked.

And that… that hurt a lot more than anything Maggie had kept secret.

Five minutes later, after Pepper kept looking at him with that withering look, and after Romanoff had appeared in all her espionage glory and Happy had made it very clear who his boss was now, Tony was left alone in the light-filled office.

He grabbed the strawberries (he'd make _sure_ to remember next time that she was allergic to them, if he survived the next couple of days) and made for the door - but then paused.

The _City of the Future_ model leaned against the bookshelf, half covered by a white _Stark Industries_ cloth. He'd barely glanced at it when he walked in - the thing had been in his office ever since they first had the idea to recreate the Expo, and now it was just more junk to clear out now that Pepper was CEO. But now…

He paced closer, spying a small plaque in the wooden frame: _The Key To the Future Is Here_.

Tony yanked off the rest of the white cloth, revealing the whole thing. The Flushing Meadows globe in the centre, ringed by pavilions -

Tony stilled. And an idea began to germinate in his brain, like something wholly and completely new being born.

* * *

Stark Mansion, Malibu

Tony drove straight into the garage, the workshop suddenly loud with the roar of his sportscar engines. Maggie didn't notice the boards sticking out of the passenger seat - she rushed over with her arms full of notebooks and a pencil stuck in her hair as Tony climbed out of the car, buzzing with energy.

"Tony!" she exclaimed, gesturing a notebook at him. He opened his mouth but she blurted: "I wanted to call you but I couldn't get a signal out - anyway, I've been looking through all the notes and it seems like Dad _did it_. He cracked the Reactor problem, but for whatever reason the solution isn't actually _in_ the notes. He's referred to the missing element as _T70_ which at first I though might be a reference to atomic weights or something, but then I got to thinking about _you,_ and I realized it could be a reference to T for Tony, and 70 for your year of birth, but I still don't know really what it _means-_ "

Tony held out his hands. "Mags-"

She shook her head. "There's references to T70 throughout the notes but it's like… you remember learning about DaVinci as a kid, how he used to encipher his notes and leave parts out, so no one stole his ideas? I think this is kind of what's going on, and maybe we could extrapolate from the notes what the missing pieces-"

"Maggie shut up, I know!" Tony cut her off, grabbing her arms to keep her still. "What Dad said in the film reel wasn't some sentimental bullcrap, it was a _message_. And I think I've got T70!" He turned her, and gestured to the boards he'd shoved into the passenger seat of the car. There were four of them, sticking out precariously.

"Is that-"

"It's the _City of the Future_ model from the last Expo. From the film reel. I'm going to go up quickly and get changed out of the monkey suit, would you lay it out for me?"

Maggie blinked. "Okay."

Not entirely sure what Tony had planned, Maggie dragged a few worktables together in the middle of the workshop and then carefully lifted each board and laid it flat on the tables. She grabbed the last board, noting the small plaque on the side - _The Key To The Future_ \- before sliding it into place.

Dum-E rolled over, his claw bent close to the top of the city model that now lay whole on the tables.

Tony emerged back in the workshop, this time in a polo shirt and jeans. His eyes lit up at the sight of the assembled model, and he hurried across the workshop to look it over, his eyes darting. He still had that energy buzzing around him, lighting up his eyes. He leaned over and blew the layer of dust off the metal frame globe at the center of the model.

Maggie looked down at it then. _Really_ looked at it. "That's the Flushing Meadows unisphere," she said, "and the Expo pavilions, but… this isn't quite right." She cocked her head, eyeing the faded structures. "But this is… it's bizarre, it's…" Tony watched her, resting his hands on the edge of the worktable.

She stilled. "The pavilions." She took a step back, then cocked her head the other way, counting. She circled the model slowly, passing silently behind Tony.

He watched her pace. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, right?"

"I…" she traced a finger from one outer pavilion to the next. "Dad said he was _limited by the technology of his time_. If the notes say he figured out the element problem, but he was hiding something, and this…" her hands hovered over the model almost helplessly and she glanced around. "We need to-"

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "J.A.R.V.I.S., could you kindly Vac-U-Form a digital wire frame? We need a manipulable projection."

Maggie nodded, almost breathless. As a blue light began scanning over the model, she ran back to the box of Dad's stuff and grabbed one of the notebooks, finding the page where she'd first spotted the missing element. If Tony was right… her eyes darted. _This could work._

" _1974 Stark Expo Model complete, sir_."

Maggie turned just as Tony lifted the glowing blue overlay of the model J.A.R.V.I.S. had created, and brought it over to a clear space on the floor.

"How many buildings are there?" he asked as he eyed the swathe of blue light.

" _Am I to include the Belgian waffle stands?_ "

"Just show us," Maggie said as Tony lowered the model to about hip-height. She looked down at it, eyes darting, reminded of her primary school science classes. She stepped into the blue light, tapping a finger over the rows of pavilions leading to the center of the model. The blue light moved around her, seeming to swallow her whole.

"Nucleus," she murmured under her breath as her hand hovered over the unisphere. She stood in the second concentric ring of buildings, the - "Electron shell," she continued, and her fingers waded through the blue light.

"Someone's got the right idea." Tony clicked his fingers and set the scan to spin, and J.A.R.V.I.S. slowly lifted it vertically.

It lifted up over Maggie's body, bathing her in bright blue for a moment before it became fully vertical. She stepped through the scan once more to come stand beside Tony, who had pulled a rolling stool over towards himself and was now seated, looking at the design with crossed arms. "What does that look like to you, J.A.R.V.I.S.? Not unlike… an atom." He cast a glance at Maggie. "And as you said, the nucleus would be here-" he pointed to the unisphere at the centre of it all, slowly rotating.

Maggie was busy trying to figure out the layers of the diagram, deciding what was relevant and what wasn't. She'd never seen a puzzle like this before. Her skin prickled. Tony asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to highlight the unisphere and expanded the globe, eyeing it.

"Remove the footpaths, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Maggie said, her voice still low and awed.

Tony nodded. "Get rid of them." He swiped a hand and the footpaths disappeared, leaving a cleaner structure. Maggie's brow bunched as she tried to translate this map of a city to an atom structure she was more familiar with.

" _What is it you're trying to achieve, Sir?_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. queried.

"We're discovering - uh, correction, _rediscovering_ a…" Tony ran a hand over his mouth. "A new element, I believe."

For a moment he and Maggie just stared at the expanded design, the light glowing on their faces.

Tony cleared his throat. "Lose the landscaping, the shrubbery, the trees," he said, flicking his hands. The details flew away.

Maggie touched an aberrant square. "As well as the parking lots, exits, and entrances." She grabbed the square and made a swiping motion, and dozens more irrelevant glowing details fled out of view.

Tony eyed it all. "I think that's it. Structure the protons and the neutrons... using the pavilions as a framework." His voice had gone soft. J.A.R.V.I.S. instantly obeyed, and the pavilions miniaturized and zipped towards the centre globe, which Tony enlarged with a single movement.

Tony and Maggie could only watch as the pavilions - protons and neutrons - zoomed in to the nucleus, turning the simple blue sphere into a globe of glittering light. J.A.R.V.I.S worked faster than Maggie could keep up and she took a step back to take it all in, staring.

" _Dad_ ," whispered Tony.

When the last pavilion found its place Tony grabbed the rotating nucleus and flung his hands wide, sending the model expanding outwards like an imploding star, the light surrounding Maggie and Tony.

They both stilled. Maggie turned slowly on the spot, bathed in the glow of electric blue light. Atomic particles filled the air like stars, an inter-connecting crisscross of perfect, beautiful design. It wasn't real, just a projected model, but she felt as if she stood in the centre of a brand-new universe. When she had completed her circle, she rested her hand on Tony's shoulder. He sat on his stool, staring up.

Tony reached up and laid his hand over hers on his shoulder. She could feel his heart pounding.

"Dead for almost twenty years," Tony breathed. "And still taking me to school." He laughed, and the sound brought a smile to Maggie's face. For another moment they breathed in the silence, smiling up at the new world they had discovered.

She reached out a hand into the ether and clenched it into a fist. The glowing design shrunk in a second at the command, and a moment later she turned over her palm to reveal it glowing over her skin, the size of a golfball. It was impossibly, beautifully bright, all that detail and design like a universe contained in her palm.

" _The proposed element should serve as a viable replacement for Palladium_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. told them.

Maggie handed the element to Tony. "He made this for you."

He pinched the design between his fingers. "Thanks, Dad," he murmured. He glanced up at Maggie and smiled, the light glowing in his eyes. "He made it for both of us." She returned the smile - she hadn't been around in '74, but the certainty in Tony's eyes could not be denied.

" _Unfortunately,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. continued, " _it is impossible to synthesize._ "

Maggie blew out a breath. "Where's your faith, J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Uh huh," Tony said as he got to his feet. He met Maggie's eyes.

"It used to be impossible to miniaturize an arc reactor," she said, with the first hints of a grin.

"It used to be impossible for a human to fly with wings," he returned, not bothering to hide his grin.

She nodded, and they both looked down at the element. "Particle accelerator," she said.

He scratched his neck. "There's not one anywhere near that we'd get access to in time, but we can-"

"Yes," she added, "but we'd need a prismatic accelerant, and… a whole lot of power."

He cocked his head. "I think we can manage that."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Won't be easy. Where are we going to do this?"

He shrugged, then looked over at where Dum-E was watching them, his claw clicking softly. "Why not here?"

Maggie stepped back and looked around at the workshop. She knew the blueprints of the house, knew where the power cables were and how much power they could realistically generate. She eyed the tiny glowing model of the element, then blew out a breath. "Okay. You trashed the place already."

He grinned again, then clapped his hands together. "Get ready for a major remodel, fellas!" he called to the robots. "We're back in hardware mode."

First, they drew up a list of materials they'd need and handed it to the nearest SHIELD agent, who stood watch outside the front door. The guy barely glanced at the list before he nodded and said:

"It'll be here by tomorrow morning."

Maggie stared at him. "You sure? There's some pretty specific-"

"We'll handle it, Ms Stark," he cut her off, then turned and walked away.

"Okay then." She shrugged and walked back inside, rolling up her sleeves.

Tony and Maggie worked through the afternoon and into the night. If Maggie had thought the house looked wrecked before, it was nothing to what they did to it now. They started by going over the house blueprints and making notes, then drawing in chalk over various walls and floors, arguing over dimensions and positioning. Maggie wanted to use the pre-existing holes in the walls from his fight with Rhodey, but Tony argued that _we're going to have to replace the wall anyway, why not just put another hole in?_

Then they broke out the sledgehammer and the jackhammers.

"You're really relishing this," Tony commented with a raised eyebrow as Maggie took the first swing at the concrete workshop wall. An ear-splitting _crash_ resounded, and a small crater appeared in the wall. They both wore safety goggles, and as Maggie swung for a second time a spray of fine dust blew onto her clothes.

"I've got my own house," she said with a shrug, taking aim at the marked yellow cross on the wall. "And I've always wanted to do stuff like this. I've got a lot of latent rage to work through."

Tony grinned. "I'll go get started on the other wall."

When they'd smashed a few holes in their walls, Tony jackhammered through their living room floor until he got down to the electricity junction box, which handled all the power coming into and out of the mansion.

Surrounded by rubble, and observed by Dum-E, who'd rolled upstairs with the house blueprints clutched in his claw, Maggie and Tony peered down at the box. Six main power junctions were housed in the box, with thick black cables snaking away beneath the floor.

Maggie wiped sweat off her forehead with the edge of her sleeve. Her arms already ached from the sledgehammering. "If you start connecting the leads, I'll work on increasing the power output."

"Sounds fair," Tony agreed, shuffling back a little to give her room to jump into the hole in the floor he'd made. Together they bent over the junction box, tools laid out around them, Maggie rewiring and removing protections as Tony hooked six new power leads directly into the box.

"So how do you… not die?" Tony asked as he unscrewed a piece of housing.

"Huh?"

"In your…" he waved a hand. "Wyverning."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, but then bent back over the junction box. "I've learned how to fight, sort of. Enough that I can get out of a bad situation."

"Where'd you learn?"

"All over. Martial arts studios and… fight clubs," she added, with a guilty look at him.

_"Fight_ _clubs_?" he exclaimed incredulously.

She couldn't help but grin. "I can't talk about it." He rolled his eyes at the joke, but let her keep talking. "And I've got tech to help me. The wings, the suit I designed, my prosthetic."

"What about your prosthetic?"

Maggie had changed into sneakers, so she toed off the right one and demonstrated the extendable metal spur she'd built into the heel.

"Jesus," Tony breathed, momentarily distracted from his work by the dark glint of the heelspur poking through her sock. "How long has _that_ been there?"

She retracted the heelspur. "A while." She bent back over the junction box. "When did you first find out about the Palladium poisoning?"

As they worked through the rest of the day, they traded questions back and forth. While Tony was dropping the power cables through a new hole in the roof of the workshop, he asked _where's the most dangerous place you've ever been?_ And _Have you ever killed anyone?_ And _What's the worst you've been hurt?_

She answered his questions, and when they began designing their accelerator in holographic light, he told her about the course of his illness and how it had changed his approach toward being Iron Man.

He was angry at times, when she told him about the risks she had taken and the ways she had hidden things, and giddy at other times, but he'd meant what he said: he forgave her.

When the shadows stretching through the workshop grew long, Maggie drew in a breath and turned to Tony. "In the interests of complete disclosure… I'm still going to keep some secrets. There's… there's things I'm not sure about telling you. Things about active missions." She'd been internally debating all day about this.

Tony glanced over as he tugged a few powercables into place. "You sure I can't help with these missions? I don't know if you heard, but I _am_ a superhero."

She smiled, and shook her head. "I've got this." The Winter Soldier was still her demon. She'd tell Tony about him one day, when she caught the Soldier and finally made him pay. Once there were answers to the questions she'd been asking all her life.

Near midnight, when it got to the point they could no longer continue without the materials SHIELD had promised them, Tony and Maggie retreated up to the kitchen for a very late meal. There was basically nothing in the fridge so they made cup-a-soups with microwave s'mores for dessert, and discussed how they would begin putting together their accelerator once the parts arrived around dawn.

"We should probably try to get some sleep," Tony said, eyeing the glow of the reactor in his chest. Maggie no longer found the glow comforting, now she knew what the Palladium was doing to him. Tony glanced back up at her. "But _first_ : you made me a promise."

* * *

They snuck up to the roof, the SHIELD agents monitoring the perimeter none the wiser. Maggie had retrieved her wingpack from under her bed, and once they were safe up on the roof she handed over the oddly-shaped metal pack.

Tony hefted the wingpack in his hands, turning it over a few times, eyeing the shape and joinery. He tugged on the harness straps. Maggie watched him run an engineer's eyes over her design, and it brought a smile to her face.

"This is how you came up with those ideas for the Mark V," Tony eventually said, running a finger over the folded metal. "Because you'd already done it."

"Sort of did it," Maggie corrected. "It's a lot easier to slide a pair of wings into a pack than it is to get a whole Iron Man suit into a briefcase." She reached out to take the wingpack back from Tony. "So, uh, remember that surgery I had earlier this year?" She turned, revealing her open-backed shirt and the two metal moorings on either side of her spine.

Tony's breath hissed through his teeth. "Maggie-"

"They don't hurt or anything," she reassured him, giving him a few moments to eye the golfball-sized metal inserts in her flesh. The moorings were closed right now, leaving just smooth metal. "But I figured since I _already_ had cybernetic connections keeping me all wired up inside…" she pulled the wingpack over her shoulders with practiced ease, turning slightly so she could see Tony's face. He looked wary, but fascinated despite himself. Moonlight gleamed down on both of them.

Maggie hesitated. "I've never done this in front of anyone before," she murmured.

Tony's gaze lifted from the wingpack to her face. "Is it… do you want me to…"

She shook her head, and then deployed the wings. She knew the sensation well by now - the moorings in her back whirred open, and the wingpack itself slid open, metal harnesses stretching around her chest. In the next instant the wings stretched out to either side, catching slightly in the breeze.

Only this time, she wondered how it looked to Tony - he couldn't feel what she did, couldn't know that her consciousness felt as if it were spreading out from her spine in living metal. The weight of them pressed her a little further into the roof, grounding her.

When she felt the wings stretch out to their fullest capacity, two dark swathes of metal to either side ending in barbed points, she turned and faced Tony.

His face had gone blank. His eyes were wide and darting, taking in the sheer span of her wings, then the intricate details that he could make out in the moonlight, before looking back at Maggie: in her jeans and shirt, wearing wings.

Maggie shuffled her wings a little, folding them a little closer to her back, and spread her arms. "Ta da!"

The childish expression made Tony blink and meet her eyes. He let out a breath. "Is this how you felt when you watched me suit up for the first time?"

Maggie smiled. "Probably. I remember looking at you then, and wondering if you felt like I had the first time I put on the wings."

Tony shook his head in disbelief, taking a step back to run his eyes over the wings again. "I don't… these are _incredible_. But why…" he ran a hand over his jaw. "Why the things in your back? Why not just the harness?"

"Oh right," Maggie nodded, then turned around to show him her back. She heard him pacing closer, taking in the details. "I'm going to close my eyes now, and I want you to touch one of the wings - wherever you like, just don't tell me."

"Okay…"

For a few moments there was silence. Maggie could practically _feel_ Tony thinking, his mind suddenly tugged away from their particle accelerator design and toward her wings. She closed her eyes, still a little wonderstruck that she was _showing her brother her wings_.

Then she felt it - the press of a single finger tip against the far edge of her left wing, near the barbed point at the end. Tony's touch was warm, and light. She twitched the wing in response and he jumped back.

" _What the hell_ ," he breathed.

Maggie turned, and curved the wing in toward herself so she could touch the exact spot he had. Tony's eyes grew even wider.

"You can feel them," Tony realized. She couldn't quite read the wide-eyed look on his face. She nodded. "But to do that you'd have to…" his brow wrinkled and she saw him figuring it out in his head. "The inputs in your back, which would connect to… but to integrate the biological and mechanical messaging so seamlessly as to imitate _sensation..._ fucking hell, Maggie," he finished, pacing in a circle around her.

Maggie stood still to allow him his inspection. He poked at her right wing, then met her eyes as if to confirm _yes, you can feel that?_ She nodded.

"So?" she asked. "Against the laws of human nature, or cool?" she'd only had herself to consult on this.

Tony let out a breath and reached out to her wing again - before hesitating, checking with her as if to say _may I?_ When she nodded, he ran a hand over the top ridgebone of her left wing, skimming the clawed top, all the way down to the first barbed tip at the outer corner of her wing, then pinched the carbon fibre webbing lightly, feeling the material. Maggie tried not to shift uneasily - it felt _ticklish,_ like he was pinching at skin.

"I mean," Tony eventually said, "I'm dying from a reactor I stuck in my own chest, I don't know if I'm the authority on unethical body modification here."

"On the contrary," Maggie replied. "I don't think anyone understands better than you do."

He stilled, then cocked his head. "Why'd you do it?"

A breeze kicked up over the rooftop and she pulled in her wings a little tighter. "I… at first I didn't have the cybernetic connectivity, and the wings were great, I loved flying, but… they felt like a part of me, even then. Only there was this disconnect between me and the wings, like they'd been numbed or something. Like before I got my surgeries as a kid, when I could barely feel my legs. So I did the math, and… it became this compulsion, this drive, to see not only _if_ I could do it, but how it would feel when I did." She swallowed. "And when I put on the wings for the first time after that surgery…" she closed her eyes at the memory. "It felt _right_. Like I'd been missing a part of myself so long, and finally got it back."

When she opened her eyes, Tony was looking at her with a gleam in his eye. "Then I've got my verdict," he said. " _Definitely_ cool."

Maggie beamed.

"But," he continued, "there is no _way_ we are leaving this rooftop until I see them in action."

"Of course," she grinned and her engines whirred to life without her having to move a muscle, filling her wings with power. Tony's eyebrows lifted.

Maggie turned and sprinted toward the roof edge, her heart thrumming and feet pounding, feeling strangely nervous - as if this was her first flight all over again. She leaped off the edge and let herself plummet through thin air, clearing the cliff edge and falling down, down, to where she could see water smashing white against the rocks below. She flared her wings and smoothed her descent into a low curve, whisking over the wave tops as she rocketed out to sea. Wind whipped across her face and the salty ocean spray flicked up onto her clothes and wings. Moonlight shattered over the broken surface of the ocean and she dipped her wingtips into the gleam of it.

Maggie whooped, knowing she was out of hearing range of the nosy SHIELD agents. Each time she flew she wondered how she could have gone so long without this feeling.

Once she felt she'd gone far enough she boosted her engines and rocketed upward, curving back around to the rooftop of the mansion - which didn't glow in the night like it usually did, since they'd turned off most of the power. But as she grew closer she could see the dark silhouette of Tony on the roof. She looping once around the roof with her wings spread wide, before swooping down low. She dropped down and flared her wings to halt her momentum, raining ocean spray down on Tony's upturned face. Her sneakers touched down lightly a moment later and her wings retracted.

Tony stared at her for several long moments.

"Yeah," he finally said. "Those _are_ cool."

* * *

They got started at first light the next morning. The parts from SHIELD arrived in three massive wooden crates, and Tony and Maggie began unloading the massive accelerator coils, which to be carried safely required two pairs of hands. They grunted and grimaced as they carried each coil into position, slowly building a massive loop around the base of the house. The coils fed through the holes in the walls and had to be carefully fitted together and kept perfectly level. At first they built the supports out of workstands and bricks, but by the time they put together the last part of the loop in the workshop they were using stacks of books and Maggie's motorbike.

Slowly, their idle conversation about other matters faded away - they could both see the accelerator coming together, and they knew what that meant. They were _close._

Mid-morning, as Maggie hooked up the workshop servers to the accelerator control panel, so J.A.R.V.I.S. could begin to upload the element specifications, the workshop door opened. She glanced over to see Phil Coulson striding through.

His eyes were on Tony, who was readjusting the latest accelerator coil. "I heard you broke the perimeter," he called.

Tony barely glanced up. "Uh, yeah, that was like… three years ago. Where've you been?"

"I was doing some stuff," Coulson shot back, striding into the workshop. If he was alarmed by the drastic redecoration, he didn't say anything. His gaze slid across the mess of accelerator controls and displaced machinery until he spotted Maggie at the work tables.

"Well, us too," Tony replied. "And it worked. I'm playing for the home team, Coulson, you and all your fabulous Furry Freak brothers." Maggie frowned in Tony's direction. _Maybe we should have gotten more sleep_. "Now, are you gonna let me work or break my balls?"

Coulson peered into one of the open SHIELD crates, before reaching in and pulling something out. "What's this doing here?" he called over to Tony. Maggie glanced over - Coulson was carrying a metal disc, with a third of a white star and some blue and red lines around it. _Looks like a prototype for_ -

"That's it," Tony murmured, eyeing the disc. "Bring it to me."

Coulson looked panicked as he brought it over to Tony. "You know what this is?'

"It's exactly what I need to make this work."

Maggie turned back to her programming as Tony (with Coulson's help) shoved the disc under the latest coil to make it level.

When they were done, Tony sniffed. "I'm busy, what do you want?"

"Nothing," Coulson replied. "Goodbye. I've been reassigned."

Maggie looked up again at that, her eyebrows raised.

"Director Fury wants me in New Mexico."

"Fantastic," Tony drawled. "Land of Enchantment."

"So I'm told," Coulson deadpanned.

"Secret stuff?" Tony questioned.

"Something like that."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with Doctor Foster's work, would it?" Maggie called.

Coulson glanced over at her, completely straight-faced. "Who?" When she didn't reply, he glanced between the two of them. "Good luck."

Maggie waved, and Tony reached out to shake Coulson's hand. "Bye."

"Thanks," Coulson replied. "We need you. Both of you."

"More than you know," Tony agreed.

"Not that much." And with that, Coulson strode back out of their workshop and up the stairs.

Maggie and Tony shared a glance, then got back to work.

* * *

Later, as Coulson walked to his car while on the phone with Maria Hill, he frowned. "Margaret Stark mentioned a Doctor Foster with links to New Mexico. Let's look into her, it's possible her work has something to do with this." A few moments passed. "And if Barton's healed up some, I'd recommend assigning him to New Mexico as well. I get the feeling I might need someone to keep an eye on things."

* * *

One moment Maggie was up to her elbows in wiring, her forehead sweat-slicked from the uncomfortable warmth in the workshop, and the next moment the accelerator was done.

"It looks like shit," she said, hands on her hips as she eyed the ring of the reactor coils stacked on books, car hoods, and leftover machine parts. On a worktable just a few yards inside the coils rested their new reactor core design in a metal containment unit: an elegant filigree triangle, ready to be infused with the new element.

"It's no Hadron Collider, I'll give you that," Tony agreed. He flipped the crystal prism in his hand and waggled his eyebrows at her. "But with this, it'll get the job done."

"We'll be lucky if we don't both die of radiation poisoning," Maggie replied, but she was smiling. They'd never done _anything_ like this before. The idea of it within their reach… it made her fingertips tingle.

Tony slid the prism into the fission hub of the accelerator, adjusted the alignment and then glanced around. "Alright, I think we're ready for the powerup sequence. Maggie?"

Maggie did her own quick safety check (since Tony always forgot): they both wore red-tinted welding goggles to prevent themselves from going blind, and… that was about it. If things went wrong with the accelerator, they would go _very_ wrong, and no amount of safety gear would protect them.

"You should head outside," Tony said, as if he could read her thoughts. His brow furrowed as he looked at her. "We already know I'm toast if this doesn't work, it's safer if-"

"As _if_ ," Maggie waved him off. "I'm not letting you get all the credit."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Then what did I say? Powerup sequence!"

"Right." Maggie hastened to the accelerator control panel, having to sit cross legged to work on it since they'd left it on the floor. She glanced over the readouts then looked over her shoulder. "We're ready," she confirmed. Tony nodded once, then glanced over at the prototype reactor. Maggie recognised the gleam in his eye and the clench in his jaw. He didn't _want_ to hope. "Hey, Tony."

He glanced back.

She smiled at him. "This is going to work. You and I? We can make anything work."

He held her gaze for a moment, and the tightness in his jaw loosened. "I know."

Eyes on her brother, Maggie grabbed the ignition key and twisted it.

The accelerator began to hum, a very low buzzing at first which grew into a steady whir. In parallel, the lights in the workshop faded until they were left in almost complete darkness. J.A.R.V.I.S. had instructions to divert all power to the accelerator at expense of everything else in the house.

Tony tugged off his shirt, leaving him in a black tank top, looking very much the mechanic indeed.

" _Initialising prismatic accelerator,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. informed them smoothly.

Maggie eyed her readouts. "All looks good. We've got a strong particle beam, minimal runoff, approaching optimum kinetic range." She glanced over at the accelerator and could _see_ it - a thin blue stream had lit up within the accelerator like a halo, growing in strength. The whole accelerator vibrated before her eyes and the workshop filled with the sound of metal rattling.

Tony hopped up to the fission hub and set his hands confidently on the prism alignment wheel. "Here goes nothing." He began to turn, and… nothing happened.

He tried again, gripping the wheel and pushing his whole body weight into it, but the wheel did not turn.

" _Approaching maximum power_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. warned.

"Shit." Maggie scrambled to her feet and rushed over to Tony, just as he let go of the wheel and reached for a heavy metal wrench. "Yep, get it on!" she urged, and then grabbed the end of the wrench as Tony grabbed the middle of it.

The vibrations from the accelerator juddered down the wrench and into their arms, numbing Maggie's hands, and the whine of the particle beam just grew higher and higher. Tony and Maggie threw their weight into their makeshift lever, and Maggie almost cried when the wheel began to move.

As they rotated the prism the thin blue stream of light began to arc across the room, piercing the far wall and setting it aflame.

"Whoops!" Tony cried, but neither of them let up. Maggie pushed and Tony pulled, shifting the beam across the workshop and it sliced through everything in its path. A groan gritted out between her teeth. They cut neatly through the wall, a load-bearing steel beam, the cabinets, a book shelf, until finally-

"There," Maggie breathed as the beam connected with the thin filigree triangle housed in the prototype reactor core. It let out a resonant metallic noise that made her ears feel funny. She and Tony held the wrench steady and stared as the triangle lit up at the touch of the particle stream, absorbing the energy and beginning to glow a brilliant blue-white. Everything in the workshop was shaking from the power of the accelerator.

When the light grew so bright that Maggie could see nothing but brilliant, blinding white, Tony launched forward and hit the emergency stop button.

Like a beast laying down to rest, the accelerator powered down. The high whirring and shaking faded until everything in the workshop was still and silent again.

Except for the reactor core. It drew the eye like a magnet, glowing brilliantly even now the reactor had stopped. _It worked_ , Maggie realized as the glowing afterimage of the triangle burned behind her eyes. _The element really did synthesize, and the reactor core accepted it._

For a moment, she and Tony only stared.

Then Tony let go of the wrench. "That was easy."

Panting, Maggie stared at him.

He ducked under the accelerator coil and she followed a moment later, her legs feeling strangely weak. Cautiously, the two of them approached the tiny glowing triangle that they had torn their home apart to create. Behind the worktable, the wall was still slightly on fire. Both of them ignored it.

Tony leaned on the upturned crate in front of the table and bent over, peering at the core. He reached for a small rubber-grip clamp and oh-so-carefully pulled the glowing triangle from its housing. It seemed to glow even brighter. Maggie held her breath.

" _Congratulations, sir,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. said, the first to break the silence. " _You have created a new element._ "

Maggie and Tony let out a simultaneous breath. Wordlessly, Maggie jogged across the workshop to grab their new reactor design, then brought it back to where Tony was still staring at the glowing core. She set it up on the worktable, then watched as Tony carefully inserted the glowing core into its heart.

The whole reactor glowed a dull blue, then began to flicker, faster and faster like a strobing lightbulb until it seemed to come together in a bright, glowing blue-white.

" _Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said. Tony, whose nose was almost touching the glass of the reactor, let out a breath. Maggie set her hand on his sweaty shoulder. " _I will begin running diagnostics_."

Slowly, Tony straightened. Maggie could feel his heartbeat pounding under his skin, but she sensed the weariness in him too. He was still hours away from death, no matter what discoveries they had made. He turned to face her, eyes gleaming and overwhelmed.

Maggie slid her arm around his middle, subtly supporting him in the guise of a hug. "Let's go drink some more of that green shit," she suggested. "For the last time ever."

He smiled at that, and for what felt like the first time in months the smile reached his eyes.

* * *

Hammer Industries, New York

When he was done yelling at Ivan for _once again_ bullshitting him, Justin Hammer drew in a breath and straightened his suit. _Screw Ivan._ He had the drones, even though they'd only _salute,_ goddamn them, and he had Colonel Rhodes and his beautiful, pimped-out suit.

"I'm gonna leave now," he told Ivan, who'd been silently glaring since they took the bird from him. "I'm gonna go to the Expo. Maybe I'll even get laid," he added with a smirk. He gestured to the hired guards. "See these guys? They're your babysitters. They are not to be trifled with."

Ivan's eyes flicked to the two men, unreadable.

"And when I get back," Hammer added, "we're going to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. And you're going to make good on our arrangement." He let his voice go soft and steady, trying to sound dangerous. "Because if you don't, you're going to be exactly what you were when I found you, a _dead man._ You got that?" He gestured to the TV screen on the wall. "Maybe you can watch me on TV."

He strode out, already thinking ahead to the lights and applause of the Stark Expo. He didn't see the smile Ivan gave the two guards he left behind.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

That afternoon, as the light turned golden in the hour before sunset, Maggie and Tony were trying to make the workshop look less like a bomb site. Tony had changed out of his greasy clothes and back into his ostentatious robe, leaving him bare chested beneath; this exposed the nasty blue lines radiating out from his arc reactor. The sight of them made Maggie wince, but she kept telling herself: _S_ _oon. Soon they'll be gone and he'll be safe again_.

She kept a close eye on him in the meantime, ready to slam the new reactor into his chest the moment he showed any sign of deterioration, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s diagnostics be damned.

She stood in the kitchenette, cleaning their various mugs and glasses, as Tony bossed Dum-E and U around. SHIELD was still guarding the perimeter of the mansion, but in here at least they had peace.

When a phone ringtone broke that peace, Maggie and Tony both glanced over with a frown. _I was planning to break the SHIELD communications lock,_ she thought. _But I haven't done it yet_.

It rang again.

" _Incoming call with a blocked number, sir,_ " J.A.R.V.I.S. announced.

"My phone privilege is reinstated," Tony said in a tone of pleasant surprise. "Lovely."

J.A.R.V.I.S. took the call on one of Tony's computer screens, and Maggie turned around to dry off her hands.

"Coulson, how's the Land of Enchantment?" Tony greeted.

" _Hey, Tony. How you doing_?"

Maggie dropped the dishcloth and whirled around at the sound of a dark, accented voice which was _very much not Coulson's_. It was followed by a low, sinister laugh. She and Tony met each other's glances across the workshop, eyes wide.

" _Vanko_?" she mouthed. He nodded.

" _I double cycle_ ," said Vanko.

"You what?" Tony replied steadily.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., phone trace," Maggie whispered, and saw Tony's screen light up in response - J.A.R.V.I.S. tracing the call. She rushed across the workshop to view the screens.

" _You told me double cycle's more power. Good advice._ " Maggie had never met Ivan Vanko, or heard him speak, but his low, amused voice set her every nerve jangling.

"You sound pretty sprightly for a dead guy," Tony grit out.

" _You too._ "

Maggie glanced at Tony out of the corner of her eye as J.A.R.V.I.S. fired up their ORACLE satellite grid. Tony's eyes were fixed on the worktable. A moment later, he reached over and hit the mute button.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., anything?" he murmured, even as Vanko laughed through their workshop speakers.

" _Tracing now, sir._ "

"If his supposed death was actually an escape, he could be anywhere by now," Maggie whispered urgently. She wanted to do something, to _move_ , but J.A.R.V.I.S. was running the trace program on his own. All she could do was watch. Her mind whirled, running through options: he was Russian, so he could have returned home - but no, Vanko was too obsessed with bringing down the Stark legacy for that. She catalogued all their vulnerable parts that he could take advantage of.

" _Now,_ " Vanko said, " _The true history of Stark name will be written._ "

"J.A.R.V.I.S., where is he?" Tony urged.

" _The ORACLE grid has narrowed it down to the Eastern seaboard_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, and the digital map onscreen zoomed in. Maggie's heart dropped.

Vanko sounded confident. " _What your father did to my family over 40 years, I will do to you in 40 minutes_."

Tony hit the unmute button. "Sounds good, let's get together and hash it out."

"Tony," Maggie warned. On screen, J.A.R.V.I.S. triangulated the call to New York.

She'd forgotten they were unmuted.

" _Ah, you as well, Ms Stark,_ " came the low voice. Maggie and Tony stilled. " _Good._ " Maggie could _hear_ Vanko's smile. " _I hope you're ready._ "

There was a _click_ , and then a dial tone.

" _Call trace incomplete_ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, the digital map on screen zoomed out over Manhattan.

"The Expo," Maggie breathed.

"What?" Tony said, sounding dazed.

Maggie turned and jabbed a finger at the far screen in the workspace, which displayed rolling Expo coverage. "The _Expo_ , he wants to get back at you, at us, right? There's - shit, it's _Hammer's_ presentation tonight, Vanko must have something planned, he-"

"Pepper's there," Tony realized in a low tone of horror.

" _Everyone_ is there," Maggie murmured.

She tried to think, running through ideas for what Vanko could have planned. Hammer had kept the details of his presentation pretty quiet, at least from the Stark Expo people, so she only knew that he'd called it _In Defense of Peace. What could he be planning?_ A bomb? Hostages? Rhodey had the Mark II armor, it was possible that-

Tony whirled as Maggie stood there, thoughts churning. She didn't realize what he was doing until J.A.R.V.I.S. protested: " _Sir-_ "

She turned, and her eyes widened as she realized that Tony had pulled out his arc reactor, grabbed the new one, and slammed it into his chest. " _Tony-_ "

"You wanna run some tests?" Tony told his AI. "Run them." Maggie strode over, her mouth open. "And assemble the suit while you're at it. Put it together now."

" _We are unclear as to the effects-_ "

"I don't want to hear it, J.A.R.V.I.S.!" Tony's eyes flicked to Maggie for a moment, taking in her horror, before he glanced away again.

Hands reached out helplessly, Maggie watched as the new reactor in Tony's chest began to glow, increasing in brightness like an imploding sun. The Palladium lines in Tony's chest retracted before her eyes, until the reactor glowed too brightly for her to make out any details.

"That tastes like coconut," Tony grimaced, "and _metal-_ " the reactor glowed so brightly now that Maggie had to raise her hand to shield her eyes, but she didn't stagger away - that thing was _in_ Tony, it could be sapping the life from him, it could fail-

Tony crowed as he stood in the middle of the workshop, burning like a star, and Maggie could only stare with her mouth open.

Ten seconds later, it was over. Tony still stood there, the new reactor glowing steadily in his chest, and he looked… like himself. A little breathless, but _himself_. Color in his face, eyes shining, his skin unblemished and healthy. Maggie hadn't realized how sick he'd looked before until now.

"You're not dead," she breathed, her hands still stretched out toward him.

"No," he laughed, looking down at the arc reactor. He tapped it with one finger, letting out a glassy _tink_ noise. Then he looked over his shoulder at the screens. "No time to gawk, I've gotta get over there-"

" _We've_ gotta get over there," she corrected, dropping her hands and drawing in a breath. "Put on the suit, and meet me on the roof in three minutes."

Tony blinked, but didn't object when Maggie turned and ran out of the workshop.

* * *

When Maggie jogged up onto the roof three minutes later Tony was already there waiting for her, in the red and gold armor, the face plate retracted. Tony had designed the new suit last night - in many ways it was similar to the Mark IV, though the lines were sleeker, the color a little darker. Most notably, the glowing arc reactor plate had been reshaped into a triangle.

In admiring Tony's new suit, Maggie didn't realize that Tony was staring at _her_ until he exclaimed: "What are you _wearing_?"

"This is my Wyvern stuff," she said self consciously, gesturing to her gunmetal grey and burgundy flight suit. She didn't even have on the gloves and cowl yet. She wore her wingpack on her back, hidden underneath a regular backpack with supplies: a few extra weapons, and a disguise. She already had a plan germinating at the back of her mind. She strode over and looked Tony in the face. "My wings won't be fast enough, you'll have to carry me."

"Right." Tony shifted. "You know, I was just thinking - I should have just left already so you'd have to stay here, stay safe."

She cocked her head. "Why didn't you?"

"It only just occurred to me," he shrugged. "I think I knew I needed you with me."

She smiled. "Good. Because if you'd have left, I would have stolen one of your suits from downstairs, flown across the country to catch you, made sure _you_ were safe, and then kicked your ass."

He nodded. "Right, I knew there was a good reason I didn't leave you. C'mere."

Maggie checked all her gear was in place, then pulled on her gloves and cowl for protection against the wind and cold.

Tony's eyebrows flew up his face. "Claws?"

She spread her palms, and her metal claws glinted. "I'm the Wyvern, remember?"

"Yeah, I just didn't know you were taking it so literally. Next thing I know you'll have a tail."

"Don't tempt me."

"And the eyes?" he gestured to her face, his suit whirring. "Don't you think the glowing red death glare is a bit much?"

She raised her eyebrows, then realized he couldn't see her face. "Are you kidding me?"

He seemed to take stock of his own suit, and his own glowing eyes. "Oh. Right."

Maggie held out her arms. Tony hesitated, then wrapped one metal arm around her waist. She looped her arms around his neck and gripped tight. She heard his faceplate _clink_ into place.

"I haven't carried anyone like this before," Tony admitted.

"First time for everything," she said, and in the next second Tony blasted off the rooftop and left her breath behind them.

* * *

Maggie loved flying, but she did _not_ like this.

Clinging to her brother's uncomfortable metal suit as it hurtled through the freezing cold air was not her idea of a fun time. Her feet dangled uselessly in their slipstream, her knees banged against his metal leg plates, and whenever Tony made a course adjustment the wind felt like it was trying to tear her apart. She could see the darkening sky above them, and if she glanced over her shoulder she could make out the ground, rushing past below them at a gut-clenching pace.

She and Tony figured out a comms link between their HUDs so they could talk as they flew.

"You alright?" Tony asked.

"You're kinda squeezing me to death, here," Maggie said, wincing at the unyielding grip of his metal fingers. "Seriously, it doesn't matter if you accidentally drop me, I do have wings."

He relented slightly. But not much.

"Why's Vanko got it out for you so bad, and not me?" she asked, to take her mind off feeling like a piece of cargo.

"I'm the one out in the open running my mouth," Tony guessed as he flew. "Like you said, you make an effort not to get noticed. I guess me using his dad's tech to become Iron Man really pissed him off."

"Well," Maggie said, "he tried to kill you. And that really pisses _me_ off."

Tony kicked their speed up a notch. "I think he's working with Hammer."

"That makes sense, Hammer's obsessed with making a suit like yours. When I was in Hammer Industries-"

"When you were _where_?"

"Never mind, I saw all the work they'd been doing, but they didn't know how to replicate your tech. Hammer was there in Monaco, he had to have realized that Vanko had the technical knowledge he needed." She cursed. "I should have guessed he'd do something, he wants it too bad."

"Can't really know what we're up against, though," Tony said through gritted teeth. "Vanko said he'd figured out the double cycling, so maybe he's designed a new version of those electric whips."

"Has to be more than that, though," Maggie frowned. "Especially with Hammer involved."

"I should call Pepper-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Maggie said regretfully. "If we call ahead then we might set Vanko off prematurely, and without us there to counter him…"

"Right," Tony sighed. "It's us he wants, so if we can get everyone else out of the way…"

Maggie checked the time on her HUD. "We haven't got long. Let's work out a game plan. Here's what I was thinking…"

* * *

Stark Expo Stadium, Flushing Meadows

Maggie took the stairs up to the stadium entrance three at a time, the lights glowing down on her face and her breath rasping in her throat.

Tony had dropped her a few hundred yards away. She'd pulled on her disguise - a dark, loose-fitting business suit - over her flight suit. It looked a little lumpy, and she still wore the backpack concealing her wingpack, but she wasn't exactly worried about fashion right now.

She could hear the crowd inside the stadium cheering and applauding, and the tinny sound of Hammer's voice over the loudspeakers, as well as an upbeat patriotic tune. The stadium was designed to be open to the air so she could just see the swinging spotlights inside, as well as the massive Hammer Industries logo. Behind her, the Flushing Meadows Unisphere shone like a beacon.

She touched her earpiece. "Tony, the presentation's started. Can't see any sign of Vanko yet."

"I'll make an entrance in two minutes," he replied.

Maggie made it to the top of the steps and dashed inside, pausing for a moment to blink at the spectacle. The stadium was absolutely packed, the crowd inside cheering at the top of their lungs as Hammer showboated on stage, surrounded by four packs of… _drones_. The metal men were painted in the different designs of the defense forces, silhouetted by a backdrop of bright patriotic imagery. Metal blocks sat where helmets should have been, lifeless and sightless. The things had to be at least ten feet tall.

"That's a hell of a lot better than some cheerleaders, let me tell you!" Hammer grinned.

Maggie rushed down the main row of the stadium, her eyes darting. The lights flashing over the crowd had faded now, leaving the stage lit up.

"But as revolutionary as this technology is, there will always be a need for man to be present in the theater of war," Hammer told the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, today I am proud to present to you the very first prototype in the Variable Threat Response Battle Suit, and its pilot: Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes!"

Maggie looked up. _Rhodey._ The same panel that she had risen through in her presentation opened up, and slowly a new suit of armor rose into view: the Mark II looked completely different, spraypainted dark grey and bristling with weaponry. The crowd went nuts.

"Tony, Rhodey's on stage," she murmured. Tony didn't reply. They'd considered this possibility.

Maggie tore her eyes away and kept searching the crowd, until she spotted the back of Pepper's ginger head. She made a beeline toward her.

"Pepper!"

At the sound of her hissed voice, Pepper - and Romanoff, who sat next to her in her PA disguise - glanced away from Hammer's presentation.

Pepper's eyes widened. "Maggie? What are you-"

An engine roar filled the air, growing louder, cutting off Hammer and drawing everyone's stares. Maggie didn't look over her shoulder at it.

"Pepper, we think the Expo's about to face a major threat," she urged. "We need to evacuate these people. Now."

Neither Pepper nor Romanoff questioned her. They simply slid out of their seats and got moving, Pepper pulling out her phone to make a call - either to the local police or the security company.

Romanoff met Maggie's eyes with calm determination. "There's security in the wings, you get those on that side mobilized and I'll take this side."

Maggie nodded and turned, squeezing through the press area to make it through quicker. In the same moment, Iron Man rocketed into the stadium to gasps and pointing from the crowd, gleaming red and gold, before dropping down to the stage.

The crowd burst into applause and launched to their feet.

Maggie didn't bother turning to watch Tony onstage as he waved to the crowd. This was their plan: Tony to draw the attention, Maggie to get people to safety. She could hear Tony and Rhodey's conversation through her earpiece, though.

"We've got trouble."

"Tony, there are civilians present. I'm here on orders, let's not do this right now."

"Give them a wave."

Maggie made it through to the wings on the left side of the stadium and found one of the patrolling security guards. "Hey!" he glanced over, and his eyes widened when he recognized her. "These people are in danger, we need to get an evacuation started now. Alert-" but in the same moment, the radio on his hip crackled:

" _All security personnel, begin evacuation procedures, protocol H._ " Romanoff had clearly gotten to her side first.

To his credit, the security guard didn't waste another second staring at Maggie. He moved, approaching the nearest row of cheering people and shouting: "All of you, I need you to leave your seats and move this way to the nearest exit. Stay calm, move this way!" It'd take a few more shouts to fully draw them away from the exciting stuff on stage, but the guard had it handled.

On stage, Tony was murmuring to Rhodey about the threat. "Listen, I think he's working with Vanko."

"Vanko's alive?"

Half a moment later the emergency lights in the stadium switched on, LED lights glowing on the ground in lines toward the exits, like on an airplane. Security guards had encroached on the edge of the crowd, shouting directions, and slowly - _too slowly_ \- people began to move. They slid out of their seats, confused, and followed the guards' directions into the exits built into the wings. Maggie ran down the length of the crowd, spreading the instructions and sometimes pulling at people to get their attention. Most of the attention was still on the stage, though, as Tony turned to Hammer.

"Where is he?"

"What?" Hammer was still grinning, playing it up for the crowd.

"Where's Vanko?"

"Who?"

"Tell me!"

"What-what are you doing here, man?"

The excited shouting of the crowd suddenly took on a new tone - uncertainty. Maggie looked over her shoulder as she waved people to the nearest exit, and saw that Rhodey's suit had levelled a machine gun right at Tony's face.

"Is that you?" Tony asked in a high voice.

"No, that's… I'm not doing that, that's not me!" Rhodey sounded _scared_. Maggie wasn't used to that tone in his voice. "I can't move, I'm locked up, I'm locked up!"

Maggie cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted at the top of her voice: " _Everybody OUT_!"

The time for calm, quiet evacuation was done. She didn't imagine that everyone had heard her voice, but a second later the drones on stage moved, lifting their fists and levelling them at Tony - at the crowd. Cheers turned to screams and like a dam breaking the crowd fled, rushing in every direction. A whole surge of them knocked Maggie back flat against the wall.

"Tony, get out of here, go! This whole system's been compromised!" Rhodey shouted.

"Vanko must have slaved the drones and the suit," Maggie gasped, wriggling free of the press of the crowd and physically pushing people toward the exits now. "Tony, the stadium isn't clear-"

Tony launched off stage. "Let's take it outside." He rocketed straight upwards, out the open skylight at the top of the roof and not a second too soon - the drones and Rhodey opened fire, a haze of bullets streaking up through the stadium and shattering the glass roof. Glittering fragments rained down on the crowd below as screaming people ducked and covered their heads while they ran.

Maggie grabbed a pair of journalists and tugged them under shelter, then glanced up to see Tony soaring away. On stage, the drones and Rhodey's repulsors ignited and soon they were rocketing up as well, chasing Iron Man. "Tony-"

"I'm drawing them off, make sure the drones down there don't hurt anyone!"

Only about a quarter of the drones had taken off after Tony, the rest were all on stage - and now they marched forward, jumping into the seating section with heavy metal feet. Maggie surged forward, fighting the tide of people, running in to help the slowest members of the audience out of the way of the ten-foot tall drones. She passed a security officer and stole his radio from his belt, bringing it to her mouth. "Don't just evacuate these people from the building, we need a perimeter at least ten blocks out!" she shouted, even as she grabbed a man in a military uniform and jerked him sideways just before a Marines-themed drone trampled him. Gunfire filled the air as Tony rocketed past the stadium, pursued by Rhodey and six drones. The air was loud with gunfire, metal clanking, and screams.

As the stadium floor began to empty, Maggie turned and almost ran right into Romanoff. She and Pepper were by the edge of the stage, watching the last of the front row disappear into the wings.

Maggie met Romanoff's steady green eyes. "Hammer," she said.

Romanoff nodded once. "He went this way."

With screams and tramping metal boots still filling the air, Maggie, Pepper, and Romanoff strode backstage, rushing past audience members, stadium employees and security guards. When they spotted the backstage control panel, manned by several men and a frantic-looking Justin Hammer, Maggie clenched her fists.

Hammer was shouting questions his men, who were making helpless gestures at the computer screens.

"He's locked us out of the mainframe!" said the sweaty man sitting at the swivel chair in front of the screens.

" _Who's_ locked you out of the mainframe?" Pepper demanded as they drew close. Her eyes flashed.

Hammer turned and held up his hands. "Please, please, go away," he said irritably.

Maggie sidestepped Hammer even as he managed to get in Romanoff's and Pepper's way.

"I've got this handled!" Hammer urged.

"Have you now?" Pepper snapped.

"Yes I do-"

Maggie planted her foot on the arm of the computer guy's swivel chair and kicked, sending him rolling away across the floor with a bewildered look.

"In fact if your guy hadn't showed up," Hammer yelled as he gestured to the sound of roaring engines in the sky, "this wouldn't be happening! So please now _go away_! Thank you."

Maggie leaned over the computer and her eyes darted across the screen, taking in the situation. _Oh, this isn't good_. Vanko had completely overridden the control programs for the drones and Rhodey's suit, and had locked out the stadium computers. She set her fingers on the keyboard and began trying to back hack Vanko, testing the freeze he'd put on the stadium control systems.

Behind her Hammer turned to his security guy, who had a phone to his ear. "Listen, we gotta get these bitches out of here - hey, what are _you_ doing-"

But just as Hammer turned his ire on Maggie, he was seized by the back of his suit and _slammed_ down on the table beside the computer screens. Romanoff locked his arm behind him viciously and he yelped. Maggie didn't flinch at the violence, her eyes on the code flying across her screen. She sensed Pepper shoot her an odd look.

"You tell me who's behind this," Romanoff hissed, jerking Hammer's arm. "Who's behind this?"

Groaning, Hammer bit out: "Ivan - Ivan Vanko!"

"Where is he?"

"He's at my facility."

Romanoff glanced at Maggie, but she shook her head. "Vanko's locked out external drives, we're going to need to access the programming from the source."

Romanoff released Hammer and marched away, her shoulders straight and her chin high. Focused.

Pepper was on the phone, saying "I need NYPD, please."

Maggie jumped up from the computer and turned to follow Romanoff - she could hear the drones storming across the stadium, and Hammer was clearly useless now.

The man straightened from where he'd been slammed to the table then approached Pepper, hand out, trying to get her to hang up the phone. Maggie paused to slam her foot into the back of Hammer's knee and simultaneously shoved the heel of her palm up under his chin, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pepper stared, even as she spoke to the emergency operator.

"You've got the evacuation handled?" Maggie asked, eyebrows raised, and Pepper nodded silently.

Nodding back, Maggie ran after Romanoff. She caught up with her halfway up the stadium, the other woman surprisingly quick on her heels. Maggie fell into step with her, eyes on the Navy drones out on the steps ahead. Their footsteps put cracks in the concrete.

"I'm coming with you," Maggie told Romanoff.

The other woman looked ahead with a firm green stare. "Of course."

They strode outside just as the Navy drones on the steps fired a volley of shells at Iron Man as he rocketed by. The shells missed Tony as he zipped past and arced across the Flushing Meadows plaza, but landed with a series of concussive explosions in the path of the fleeing crowd. More screams filled the air.

" _Damn_ ," Maggie hissed, and pushed back her business jacket sleeve to reveal her Wyvern suit - she hit a button by her elbow and a glowing, crackling disc fired, hurtling across the steps to connect with one of the drones in her and Romanoff's path. The drone seized up, crackling like a live wire, before slumping to the ground with a metal clatter.

"Nice," Romanoff said appreciatively.

"EMP grenade," Maggie explained breathlessly. "I know how annoying it is to get your power cut. I've only got a few though."

A haze of smoke filled the Expo steps, and the crowd thinned as everyone fled for safety. Maggie couldn't see any bodies, thankfully. _Yet._

Overhead, Iron Man rocketed past again, closely dogged by a horde of drones who fired bullets and shells and grenades at him, mostly missing and letting the ammunition fall on the plaza below. Maggie tracked Iron Man as he hurtled out of view. "Tony needs help." She stalled at the top of the steps leading down to the plaza, then turned to Romanoff. "You take the car. I'll meet you at the facility."

Romanoff nodded, all business, then continued down the steps.

Maggie stood alone at the exit of the stadium now - the drones had fanned out, and the crowd was fleeing into the plaza and surrounding streets. Working fast, she pulled her cowl and gloves out of her pockets and tugged them on, shrugged off her business suit disguise, and then dropped the backpack. As her HUD glowed to life her wings sprang out and she soared into the air.

She felt the wind whistling over her wings as she climbed into the sky above the stadium. It was easier to see the situation from above. The drones had stormed out of the stadium, taking up strategic positions from which they could shoot Iron Man out of the sky. This meant they were also boxing in the crowd trying to flee.

She headed for the Army contingent first. They had ground-to-air artillery equipped on their backs, but they weren't aiming for her. She dove in from behind, a dark streak in the night air, firing a volley of energy bolts down at them. A few of the drones staggered, but didn't break position. _Damn_. Not enough power. She wheeled and activated the rest of her EMP grenades, dropping them in the midst of the drones like a bombing raid just as they turned and appeared to pin her as a target.

The EMPs flared when they landed, and three of the drones seized up and fell, their limbs going haywire. Maggie whooped. _The rest won't be so easy._ The rest of the drones turned and aimed their guns at her, but she was already zipping around the side of the stadium and out of sight.

She spotted a lone Navy drone wreaking havoc as it stormed through a crowd of bottle-necked civilians in the grassy area. She swooped down feet-first, extending her heel-spur with a _snick._ People screamed as they saw the red-eyed, black winged figure descending on them. _I hope this works._

Her heelspur crunched through the tiny metallic head of the drone and into the wiring beneath, sending a bolt of electricity zinging up Maggie's prosthetic and into her leg. She yelped, stung, and then jerked her foot out of the drone's head a second before it keeled backwards with a groan. People dodged out of its way, stared at her hovering a few feet above their heads, and then continued fleeing into the streets of Queens. On the other side of the stadium she heard a rattle of gunfire, no doubt the rest of the army drones firing on Iron Man.

"Tony, you've got to get clear of the civilians!" she shouted.

* * *

Hammer Industries, New York

Vanko, sitting behind a computer screen watching his metal army unleash chaos over Stark's party, was rather enjoying himself. But then four of his drones went offline in quick succession.

Leaning forward, he eyed the drone cameras. Those drones should be impervious to small arms fire, so how... At first he saw only Tony Stark, fleeing for his life, but then one of the Air Force drones caught sight of a black-clad figure with metal wings.

He squinted at the screen, frowning, but then the figure disappeared from view. " _Chto eto?_ " [ _What is that?_ ]

* * *

Maggie flew in rings around the stadium, pushing out the perimeter for civilians and trying to keep the drones out of their way as they fled. But, apparently frustrated by her and Tony's resistance, the drones had begun a heavy bombardment of the whole area. Burning fireballs rose up around Flushing Meadows, making people scream and duck.

She'd just deflected a shell mid-air away from a knot of fleeing civilians, and soared around to the main entrance, her breath shaky and her eyes darting. This had become a warzone, and the civilians couldn't get away fast enough.

She found a plaza mostly clear of drones, and then almost ran straight into Iron Man in midair as he rocketed up from the ground. A little kid in an Iron Man helmet stared up at him.

Maggie yelped and rolled sideways, and for a moment they hovered in midair, staring at each other.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied, and she could tell he was eyeing her in her full getup.

But then they heard roaring engines approaching, and when Rhodey and the flying contingent of drones zoomed around the stadium towards them, Maggie and Tony both soared upward.

"Let's get this away from the Expo," Tony called, and in full agreement, Maggie pitched her wings up and out of the plaza.

Rhodey's voice came over Maggie's comms - Tony must have linked their sound systems. "Whoah, who's that?" he exclaimed. "I know Hammer didn't make _that._ "

"That's, uh, a friendly," Tony replied. "Those wings really are cool," he added in a mutter.

Maggie checked her HUD - there were still drones back at the Expo, but it seemed that now Iron Man veered up and away from the stadium most people were free to get clear, leaving the area around the stadium empty. She refocused on the mission.

She and Tony flew in parallel away from the Expo, a burning comet of a man and a dark winged shadow by his side. The drones and Rhodey streaked after them, closing the distance.

A new trio of drones banked in from Maggie's left, startling her, and she veered away with a curse just as they fired a volley of missiles.

She cut into the comms. "Tony, Romanoff has located Vanko and I need to go back her up, but these things are after me too, now. Help me take down this squadron so I can clear a way through."

"Gotcha," Tony said, at the same time as Rhodey exclaimed:

"Is that _Maggie_?"

"Rhodey's still locked out?" Maggie asked. She and Tony criss-crossed as they rocketed over a highway, lights streaming below them. Her engines were pressed to their max to keep ahead of the drones, but her mind felt sharp.

"I am," Rhodey replied, "but - Maggie, is that you?"

Maggie rolled onto her back and fired her energy blaster at full power - the bolt knocked off one of the pursuing drones' weapons, but it stayed on course. "Sure is."

"Where did you get _wings_?"

"I made 'em."

"Hang on, you're… you're the Wyvern. You're in the Air Force intel notes, holy _shit-_ "

"Freak out later, buttercup," Tony said, like he hadn't found out only yesterday. "Maggie, we're coming up to the industrial complex now, if you cut them off-"

"- at Woodhaven Boulevard, got it," Maggie finished, catching on to his idea. Like coordinated fliers she and Tony veered apart, Rhodey and his set of drones tailing him, while four more veered after Maggie. They dipped in and out of the expressway infrastructure, using the thick concrete for cover. Gunfire rattled after them, and Maggie twisted and veered and zigzagged to stay out of range.

"You know, I could definitely improve those wings," Tony said conversationally, even as he zigzagged through concrete supports. "Don't get me wrong, they're great, but they're not exactly race-winning, you know?"

"Not all of us are obsessed with winning," Maggie shot back. "Alright, I'm almost at Woodhaven."

"Got it."

Maggie blew out a breath as she veered out from under the expressway. This would require very careful timing. She did a loop and then soared out over the wide boulevard, her wings spread wide and the drones inching up behind her, rattling off gunfire. One of the bullets skittered off her left wing and she wobbled, but held steady.

She soared through a narrow intersection, and the drones followed after her just second behind - only for Iron Man to jet up the intersecting street and _smash_ through the drones, his stronger armor tearing through their metal bodies and sending flaming machine parts skittering everywhere.

"Ha!" Tony crowed, even as he then veered down another street to avoid his own pursuers.

Maggie, free of her drones, twisted. "Tony, be smart and don't die. Rhodey, hang in there - I'm going to go find your puppet master." With an effort, she turned around and soared away from her brother.

* * *

When Maggie was a few seconds out from Hammer Industries, careening through the night air, Rhodey spoke over the comms:

"Maggie, a pack of drones just rerouted for the Hammer facility, you've got like two minutes before they arrive."

"Thanks for the heads up," she called as she angled down to the facility. A silver Audi was idling out the front, the doors open. _Romanoff's already here, then._

Maggie landed a little harder than she meant to on the pavement outside the facility, jarring her knees, then fired her energy blaster at the door lock. It fried in a crackle of electricity and she pushed the door open with a shove. She tuned out the sound of Tony's flying and fighting on the other end of the comms.

She stormed through the doors, her wings folded behind her and her eyes glowing red. She paused for a moment when she spotted Happy exchanging blows with a security guard in the lobby. Sweat glistening on his forehead, Happy seized the guard by the lapels of his suit and slammed him into the wall. In the gleaming white corridor beyond she could just make out Romanoff's scarlet hair as she leaped over a metal trolley and kicked a guard in the face. Other fallen guards lay slumped in the corridor behind her like fallen puppets.

Maggie rushed past Happy with a pat on his back as he punched his guard in the face. "Remember to keep your feet apart, Hap."

Happy glanced at her, bewildered, but then had to turn around to throw himself back into his fight.

Maggie dashed up the gleaming corridor, hopping over fallen black-clad guards. She'd lost sight of the red-headed spy and she pressed forward, head swivelling - only to skid to a halt when Romanoff burst out from an adjoining corridor, her knees clamped around a startled guard's ears. Romanoff was mid swing, spinning the guard around until he crashed to the ground, out cold. Romanoff landed with perfect balance and turned on Maggie, hair flying and fists raised-

"Whoah," Maggie said, holding up her clawed hands.

Romanoff's steely eyes didn't waver. "This way." She sprinted down the corridor, and Maggie ran after her. She glanced up at one of the security cameras she passed, sure that Vanko was somewhere in the facility watching.

Romanoff had changed out of her PA dress into the black tactical suit from yesterday. But yesterday she'd been amused, soft-spoken. Today she exuded nothing but danger as she stalked down the gleaming white corridor.

A crackling radio was their only warning of the backup guards. Maggie and Romanoff rounded the corner to come face to face with them, and before Maggie could move Romanoff slid a pair of small disks from her belt and flung them at the two security guards. The disks went off with a _bang_ , blinding the guards and releasing a haze of gas.

Maggie didn't hesitate. Romanoff went low, sliding to the floor and knocking the first guard's legs out from under him, but Maggie charged full-force at the second one, body checking him to the ground, and then slamming her armored fist into his head.

The rest of the reinforcements arrived: five men filled the corridor, wielding batons. Maggie got off an energy bolt before the men descended on them and one of them dropped, seizing. Romanoff pulled a garotte wire from somewhere and launched herself at the first, biggest man. Maggie started swinging.

Romanoff went to battle like it was a dance. Maggie knew she was nowhere near as precisioned in combat as the SHIELD spy, but she had her tech and her more brutal hard-learned moves to keep her in the game. Romanoff spun and kicked and _dismantled_ the men, while Maggie slammed them into walls, kicked their legs out from under them, and fired her energy bolts. Romanoff ducked a guard's swing and Maggie grabbed his over-extended fist, used his momentum to swing him into the wall, and then punched his lights out. When she turned, Romanoff had somehow strung two men together with her garotte and left them out cold on the ground.

One man left - _no, two_ , she noted as another guy ran out from another corridor, a can of mace held high.

Romanoff did a mind-boggling spinning leap onto the first man, hooking her limbs around him and whirling, legs twisting, until she hooked her arm around the back of his neck and slammed him to the ground. She turned to grab the second man's outstretched hand, twisting him into a kneel, just as Maggie launched forward and drove her knee into his face. His nose crunched and he dropped, yelling.

Maggie did feel a bit bad - these guys were just doing their job. But they were currently protecting Vanko, and there wasn't time to sit around and explain things.

Romanoff rose, preternaturally calm, and continued striding down the corridor. Maggie followed, breathless, and could only watch in admiration as Romanoff maced the last oncoming guard with the can she'd stolen from the last one, without even looking at him.

Maggie jogged after her. "Will you accept my hand in marriage?"

Romanoff looked over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow. Maggie cleared her throat. _Be cool._ "I've been here before. If Vanko's anywhere, he'll be down this way in R&D." Romanoff glanced down the corridor Maggie had pointed at, then nodded and turned down it.

Several very loud explosions sounded over Maggie's comms. She could only hope Tony was keeping ahead of the drones.

Happy caught up with them just as they reached the R&D wing. A security guard with a gun ran at them, shouting. Romanoff sidestepped him and kicked the guy in the back, sending him stumbling toward Maggie - who wiped him out with a blow from her left wing.

Happy gaped at the two of them.

But Romanoff was already moving again: she drew a pair of handguns from holsters on her belt and kicked down the door to the main computer hub. She darted in, guns raised, and Maggie followed a moment later.

The room inside was filled with snaking wires from the ceiling to the floor, and in the far corner a computer hub showed a programming setup as well as various camera feeds. Two black-clad security guards hung from the ceiling with cords around their necks, their eyes lifeless.

"He's gone!" hissed Romanoff.

"Shit," Maggie breathed. Her HUD beeped, alerting her to several electronic signatures approaching the facility rapidly. She hesitated, looking from the computer hub and back to Romanoff.

"We've got unfriendlies coming in. You think you can hack this?"

The redhead nodded once. "I can. If I need help you're on comms."

"Right. Prioritize Rhodey." Maggie turned and headed for the door, and Happy turned after her.

"Wait, _Maggie_?"

She didn't have time to respond. Breathless, Maggie sprinted through the facility toward the loading bay.

* * *

Rocketing over Flushing Meadows, Tony grinned to himself. Using the unisphere to knock out the drones had worked a treat.

"Sorry, buddy," he said to Rhodey over comms, "Had to thin out the herd. What's your 20?"

A second later Rhodey's suit tackled him out of the sky.

* * *

Maggie sprinted into the loading bay just in time to see a tall metal suit clanking out onto the street outside. She powered up her energy blasters, ready to face another drone, but then hesitated when the suit heard her footsteps and turned.

This one was no drone. It was built similarly to Rhodey's gunmetal grey suit, bulky at the shoulders and arms and with protective plating stretching down from the hips, reminding her of a samurai's thigh guard. An arc reactor glowed from the chest. The face plate retracted, revealing…

"Ivan Vanko," she realized.

He had a warrior's face, creased with scars and a violent smile. His dark eyes took her in, assessing. He cocked his head at her. "Little bird," he said in a thick accent.

Maggie flung her wrists up, aiming, but he was faster - an artillery barrel popped up from one of his bulky suit shoulders and fired, sending a short-range missile streaking across the loading bay. Maggie dove sideways and the missile collided with the wall she'd been standing next to, unleashing a thudding shockwave and a roaring fireball. Maggie covered her head as she rolled, flinching as rubble rained down on her.

She scrambled to her feet, casting an eye over the partially-collapsed roof and the flames flickering by the doorway, then turned back to where Vanko had stood. He fired up his repulsors and surged off the ground, laughing.

Cursing, Maggie ran through the loading bay and then flicked out her wings, ready to fly after him, but then she spotted the lights of seven drones arcing down toward the facility. " _Shit_." She glanced at Vanko's figure, growing smaller, then back to the drones. They were here for her, and for Romanoff - they'd protect their master's programming at any cost. And she was all out of EMP grenades. _Damn_.

Over her comms she could hear Rhodey and Tony fighting, a rattle of gunfire and panting breath.

Maggie kicked off the ground and flipped to face the oncoming drones. She felt the stretch of her wings, the sharpness of her barbed talons. The drones grew larger in her HUD.

All of a sudden the gunfire over the comms cut out. A moment later, Natasha's voice rang out over the comms:

"Reboot complete. You got your best friend back."

"Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff," Tony replied. Rhodey was silent - no doubt Romanoff had cut his suit's power completely.

The drones streaking toward Maggie through the dark sky let out a rattle of gunfire and she veered up to avoid it, roaring right over the drones and then wheeling behind them. She pulled out the gun she'd stashed in a holster on her hip and started firing.

"Well done on the new chest piece," Romanoff was saying to Tony, "I am reading significantly higher output and your vitals all look promising."

One of Maggie's bullets hit the foot repulsor of one of the drones and it pinwheeled drunkenly, smoking. Maggie surged after it.

"Yes, for the moment, I'm not dying," Tony said sarcastically. "Thank you."

"What do you mean you're not dying?" Pepper's voice, high and concerned. Romanoff must have linked her in. "Did you just say you're dying?"

"Is that you?" Tony exclaimed. "No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"What's - what's going on?"

"I was going to tell you, I just didn't want to alarm you."

"You were going to _tell me?_ You really were dying?" Pepper's voice had gone shrill, and Maggie didn't blame her.

"You didn't let me-"

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I was gonna make you an omelet and tell you!" Tony shot back, his voice rising now.

Maggie swerved over three of the drones and closed on the pinwheeling one, diving in from above. "Hey guys, would you please shut it-"

"Maggie?" Pepper exclaimed. "Maggie, where are you?"

She slammed heelspur-first into the drone's back and sharply angled her wings, driving it down at a steep angle until the drone collided with the road, sparking and shredding apart against the asphalt. "I'm doing my best here, but Vanko's built himself a suit and he's heading back in the direction of the Expo, keep an eye out!" When the drone came apart in sparks she retracted her heel spur and burst back into the sky.

"Yep, you've got incoming, Tony," Romanoff confirmed. "Drones. Looks like the fight's coming to you."

"Great. Pepper?" Tony said.

"Are you okay now?" Pepper breathed.

"I am fine. Don't be mad, I will formally apologize when I'm-"

"I am mad!"

"-when I'm no longer _fending off a Hammeroid attack._ Be mad at Maggie, she's the secret superhero."

" _What_?" Pepper exclaimed.

Maggie pinwheeled and dove down to head off four of the drones, who were heading to the loading bay.

"We could have been in Venice," Tony added.

"Oh, please."

Maggie tuned out the comms chatter and focused on the fight. She had six heavy-duty drones left, and only two were tailing her now - the other four were trying to get into the facility through the loading bay, only kept back by Maggie physically diving in their way and drawing them off.

So Maggie brought the fight in close. She zipped through the pack of drones as they roared downward, sending them clanging against each other and creating a chaotic clash of metal and gunfire in the air above the facility. She pelted them with energy blasts and unloaded all her weapons at them, but she had to hand it to Vanko - he made these things tough.

When she flew in close enough she physically grabbed onto the shoulders of one of the Air Force drones, digging in her claws to stay latched. The thing rocketed through the air, Maggie clinging to its back, and the other drones fired at it. Her breath rasped in her throat as she gripped tight. When the gunfire missed and rained down on the facility, Maggie took matters into her own hands. She dug her heelspur into the back of the drone for leverage, then stuck one clawed hand in the space between the metal head and the body. She reached around as the drone lurched through the air, trying to shake her off, until she felt a bundle of wires. She wrapped her hand around the wires and _tugged_ , letting out a whoop when she felt the whole drone short-circuit and begin falling out of the sky.

Over the comms she could hear fighting again, deafening gunfire as Tony and Rhodey fought their own set of drones.

Maggie glanced around as she disentangled herself from the falling drone and saw that two of the others had landed on the street outside the loading bay and were marching in, their footsteps heavy on the ground. She dove, and the three drones tailing her fired, raining down a storm of gunfire. Maggie didn't veer this time but dropped straight downward, drawing their fire in a direct line. At the last moment she flared her wings and rocketed over the heads of the two drones on the ground. She heard an explosion, and looked back to see that the gunfire from the drones tailing her had struck one of the drones on the ground dead center.

Maggie wheeled back for the remaining metal figure on the ground, peppering it with energy blasts and then hitting it bodily, knocking it back from the loading bay entrance. She couldn't let a single one get inside.

This drone, an Army one, recovered quickly and shrugged Maggie off, sending her skittering to the ground. It turned its gun on her and she dodged, zigzagging in closer until she was within range of the gun. She jumped up and grabbed it, using her body weight to yank the gun down, bending the metal.

Then the drone punched her in the chest.

Her armored vest barely absorbed the blow and she fell to the ground with an audible _oof_ , gasping at the imprint of the metal fist on her ribcage. _I wasn't expecting it to punch me._ The Army drones must have been equipped for hand-to-hand combat.

She gasped for air, realizing she was flat on her back on the concrete, and in the next moment the Army drone dropped down on top of her, its metal knee digging into her stomach and one metal fist raised. Wide eyed, Maggie just managed to jerk herself sideways before the drone put its fist through her head. Its fist put a dent in the concrete.

Over her comms, she heard Vanko's voice - Tony and Rhodey must be fighting him.

Maggie struggled against the drone's pinning hold, crying out at the heavy metal and the yellow glow of its arc reactor. The drone kept trying to punch her, its devastating blows putting cracks in the concrete and narrowly missing her ducking, weaving head. Maggie shredded her claws through all the metal and wires she could reach, kicking her heel spur. She could barely draw a breath, the drone's weight was so heavy on her chest. Finally she flared her wings and slashed them, using the top barb of her wing like a claw. It shredded through the Army drone's helmet, jarring it enough for her to kick the thing off her. She rolled to her feet, set her claws under the bottom of the drone's head and _ripped_. The head came free in her hands, and the body slumped to the ground.

The sound of a lower-calibre weapon caught her attention, and she turned to see Romanoff in the loading bay, firing both her handguns out at the three remaining drones. One of them levelled an arm-mounted missile launcher at her. Maggie dove for it, engines giving her a boost, and only just shoved its arm in time to send the shot wide. The side of the building went up in flames.

"Get back inside!" Maggie shouted at Romanoff over her shoulder, trying to tug the drone off balance. But it was much sturdier than her, and jerked its arm back, sending her staggering.

Maggie didn't pause to see if Romanoff had listened. She whirled, and rolled to avoid another volley of gunfire. Her breath was loud in her ears, and her heart felt like it was about to give out. _I've never fought robots before_.

She dove again, using one of the cars parked alongside the road outside the facility for cover, and flinched as it went up in flames. She narrowed her eyes. _I've never fought robots before_.

This whole time she'd using the skills she'd developed from fighting people, who had fleshy soft spots and the capacity to feel pain. Annoyed at herself, she forced herself to think like a mechanic. _They're just machines and a bit of programming. It doesn't need to take a missile to shut them down._

Maggie drew in a deep breath, then looked over her shoulder to see two of the drones marching toward the loading bay, the other striding across the ground to where Maggie cowered behind the car. _Time to finish this._

She boosted her engines to hop over the car and landed right in front of the drone. It started firing straight away, a deafening spray of bullets, but Maggie weaved in close, seized it by the arm and turned it with a shove of her wings - just as the other two drones turned to face her. She aimed the metal arm in her grip and after a second her drone stopped firing - but too late. The spray of bullets she had swung around struck one of the other drones right in the arc reactor, and it dropped like a lifeless puppet. Maggie raised her wrist and fired an energy bolt into the small gap between her drone's chest plate and shoulder plate - the energy fried the shoulder joint, immobilising its arm, and like a dance she used the useless metal arm to spin the drone in front of her, shielding her as the last drone sent back a volley of retaliatory fire.

Maggie was already moving when her drone dropped, shredded apart by bullets. This time she aimed her blaster for the last drone's knee joints, where she could see some exposed wiring. They locked up, putting the drone off balance, and it keeled over onto its back, still firing at the sky. Maggie ran across the road, kicked aside the firing arms, and drove her heelspur into the gap between helmet and chest piece.

The last drone died.

Maggie stepped back, retracting her heel spur, and almost fell to the ground. Her knees trembled under her as she fought for breath. Her wings sagged, her body too tired to hold them upright. One drooping metal talon scraped on the asphalt.

The sudden silence on the street was deafening. Sparking, flaming drone carcasses littered the ground, some of them having fallen into the loading bay. Flames crackled along the side of the building and in the husks of destroyed cars. Maggie looked up and noticed Happy and Romanoff pacing out of the loading bay, their eyes on the fallen drones. Happy let out a low whistle.

Maggie tore her cowl off, still gasping for breath. Her chest ached and her limbs felt like jelly after the adrenaline of the fight. Her skin flushed hot.

Romanoff met her eyes. "Colonel Rhodes and Tony just took out Vanko."

That would explain the sudden silence over the comms, then. Maggie closed her eyes and sighed.

But then a low, broken voice filtered into her earpiece: " _You lose_."

A loud _beep_ to her right made Maggie flinch, and she looked down to see the last drone's arc reactor flash red. That beep was followed by another, and another, until all the fallen drones were flashing and beeping. Happy and Romanoff stared around, as bewildered as Maggie.

Over the comms she heard Rhodey say: "All these drones are rigged to blow, we gotta get out of here!"

Heart in her mouth and her ears ringing with the rising beeping sound, Maggie launched forward. She grabbed Romanoff around the waist and seized Happy by the back of his suit and _heaved_ , her wings roaring at full power as she pushed them into the air. Happy yelled as his feet left the ground and Romanoff gripped Maggie's arm. At first they stalled, faltering in midair, her wings unaccustomed to the extra load. But she gritted her teeth and _strained_ , setting her engines to full power and furiously beating her wings. They soared up from the road, a strange shape in the air until-

The road below erupted. A fireball and a spray of orange sparks surged upwards, scorching the air and throwing out a shockwave that almost knocked Maggie out of the sky. She shuddered and almost fell, but rode the shockwave in an arc away from the road, gripping her two passengers. Heat licked at her feet and she felt sparks break against her wings. When they were out of range of the showering sparks and shrapnel she brought herself and her cargo in a controlled fall into a park. The three of them tumbled down in the grass next to a children's playground.

Maggie found herself lying flat on her back in the grass beside a set of monkey bars, her wings splayed and her chest heaving. For a few long moments she just lay there. Stars glittered above her.

Then she heard the others slowly getting up. Happy let out a groan, and when Maggie looked over she spotted Romanoff rocking up into a sitting position and dusting herself off. The spy looked over at Maggie sprawled on the ground.

"Not bad, Wyvern."

Maggie let out a tired laugh and sat up, wincing at the aches and bruises already making themselves known over her body. Her hair was straggled over her sweaty face, since she'd been stupid enough to put her cowl and goggles in her pocket before the explosion. She met Romanoff's eyes. "Not bad yourself, Agent Romanoff."

She thought she'd heard yelling over the comms, but when she paid attention to the slightly-fritzing line she realized it was actually Tony and Pepper… not arguing. Making up? She cocked her head, listening as their voices grew softer, warmer. _I do not understand those two_.

Pepper was mid-sentence saying something about the Presidency when she abruptly cut off. And then it was pretty clear what - or who - had cut her off.

A grin spread across Maggie's face as she sat in the grass. She looked over at Happy. He was on his feet now, looking rattled, staring at her.

He pointed. "You-"

"Pepper and Tony just kissed," she told him.

He dropped his finger. " _Finally_."

Maggie got to her feet with a groan, then limped over to pull Happy into a hug. "You did great, Happy." He patted her back.

Behind them Romanoff was already on her feet, and checking her phone. She cleared her throat. "SHIELD will debrief you in the morning, Ms Stark."

Maggie cocked an eyebrow. "Gotta catch me first."

"Oh, we will." With an enigmatic smile, Romanoff turned and walked away.

Maggie turned back to Happy as she pulled out her cowl and goggles and tugged them on. "You got the car, right?"

He frowned. "I do, but - hang on!"

Maggie had rocketed back into the air before the rest of his protest left his mouth.

* * *

Maggie found the rooftop in Flushing Meadows easily enough. An embarrassed-looking Tony and Pepper were speaking to Rhodey, who sat at the other end of the rooftop in his bulky suit with the face plate retracted. Their conversation cut off when they heard the roar of her engines, and when she dropped down lightly, her wings flared, they all stared at her.

Maggie tugged off her cowl and goggles. "Hey guys." She looked around. Rhodey sat on the roof edge, and Tony and Pepper were practically in each other's arms. The rooftop had a great view of the glowing city, even with the smoke plumes rising up from the Expo. Maggie shuffled her wings and caught her breath. "I heard we were hanging out on this rooftop?" She pointed at Tony and Pepper. "Oh, and this? I totally called it."

Pepper's face had gone white. "What are you…" she rounded on Tony. "What did you _do_?"

He lifted his gauntleted hands. "Believe it or not, _that_ " - he gestured to Maggie in her suit and her wings - "was all her. Like, before Iron Man, even."

Pepper turned back to Maggie, her eyebrows pinched.

"I am sorry," Maggie said. "I should've told you guys. I know you were worried about me. But uh…" she spread her arms, looking down at herself. Her flightsuit was a bit dented and oil-stained. "Yeah."

Rhodey hadn't stopped staring at her. "I should've known," he murmured. Maggie glanced over at him. "The Air Force knows about the Wyvern, but I didn't think it could be _you_ , not in a thousand years." He ran a hand over his chin. " _Wyvern_."

"Anyway," Tony said, one arm around Pepper. "You two should get lost."

"I was here first," Rhodey shot back. "Get a roof."

Tony chuckled. "I thought you were out of one liners."

"That's the last one."

Maggie met Pepper's gaze and rolled her eyes. Pepper smiled.

"You kicked ass back there, by the way," Tony told Rhodey, then turned to Maggie. "Both of you."

"Thank you, you too," Rhodey nodded. "Listen, my car got taken out in the explosion, so I'm gonna have to hang onto your suit for a minute, okay?"

"Not okay," Tony shook his head. "Not okay with that."

Rhodey got to his feet. "Wasn't a question." His repulsors roared, and a second later he'd jetted off the rooftop, soaring off into the night sky.

Maggie watched him go, her brows raised. There was a moment of silence.

"Kinda rude," she eventually said. She looked back to Tony and Pepper, who were now clasping hands and looking into each other's eyes. "Yikes, I'm going to go." She headed for the edge of the rooftop, but then Tony called:

"Hey, wait-"

She looked back. Pepper and Tony were both looking at her, Pepper with that wide-eyed surprise, still, and Tony with something a little deeper.

He frowned. "Are you…" his eyes flicked over her. "Where are you going?"

She smiled. "I'm not going far, trust me. I think I might head to the old Stark mansion, bust open Dad's liquor cabinet. Feel free to join once you're done with…" she gestured between them. "This."

Tony smiled. "See you there."

She nodded. "See you there." She backed away toward the roof edge. "I'm staying this time, Tony. I promise. And hey, didn't I tell you that between the two of us we could make anything work?" She tapped her chest. "Look after the old ticker."

Without warning she toppled backward off the edge of the roof, plummeting out of sight, and Maggie grinned to herself when she heard Pepper's startled yelp.

A second later the Wyvern rocketed upwards, wings outstretched and engines burning, leaving the rooftop and the world behind.

"So dramatic," Tony said as he turned to Pepper. "Now, how are you going to resign, if I don't accept?"

* * *

Later that night, after the cleanup and the police interviews (Maggie's story was that she helped with the Expo evacuation and then hid in a bush for half an hour), she, Tony, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey all wound up back at the Stark mansion. Dust lined the corridors and all the furniture was covered in plastic sheets, but they gathered in the entertainment room, sipping Howard Stark's fifty-year-old Scotch whiskey, icing their injuries, and debriefing. Though debriefing was a loose term that covered 'recounting all the awful events of the evening and making jokes at Vanko and Hammer's expense'.

Everyone had a _lot_ of questions about the Wyvern.

Maggie was reclined on a plastic-covered couch, pleasantly buzzed enough to forget about her aching body, laughing at Rhodey and Happy, when she realized that Tony and Pepper had snuck out together. She smiled, and lifted her glass to Rhodey and Happy.

"To the future," she toasted.

They lifted their glasses as well, and the red-faced Happy nearly spilled his. "To the future!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're (almost) done with Iron Man 2! On to bigger and better things.
> 
> By the way, who's excited for TFATWS? We've been waiting for this for two years, guys, I can't wait.


End file.
